


Blood Wedding

by Jen Hall (Greenlady)



Series: White Wolf [3]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-25
Updated: 2011-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-12 04:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 28,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/120778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Jen%20Hall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paris has been liberated, and the end of the war is near.</p><p>This is a Completed WIP, and I have edited it very slightly since I first posted it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Paris, 1945....

 

'Herr Clausen?'

The tall, thin man looked startled, but gathered his composure. 'Ja,' he said.

'That's a lie,' said Hutch.

'Entschuldigen Sie!' said the tall, thin man. 'Bitte Wiederholen Sie. Ich verstehe nicht.'

'Oh, you understand me well enough, Herr Doktor Axel Reimann.'

'I'm in a hurry,' said the doktor. He turned to run, but found that his way was blocked by the Pilot and the Witch Doctor. He turned back to Hutch, and studied his face for a moment.

'Herr Hutchinson,' he said at last, with loathing. 'Traitor. Jew lover. Pervert.'

'You have described me with admirable succinctness, Herr Doktor. Now, allow me to sum up the situation you find yourself in. You can deal with me -- traitor, Jew lover and pervert as I am. Or, if you decline my offer, I will leave you for the Resistance to handle.'

Herr Doktor Axel Reimann seemed for a moment to be considering the qualities of mercy possessed by the Resistance. Only for a moment did he consider the possibility they possessed any at all.

'I'll agree to help you,' said the doktor.

'Wise choice,' Hutch commented.

 

******************************

 

'You must understand, Herr Hutchinson...'

'I do understand, Herr Doktor. I understand perfectly. But I will allow you to live, nevertheless, as long as you work with us.'

'Of a certainty, Herr Hutchinson. I will turn traitor, and work with Jews and perverts. It is better than death, but only a little.'

'If you change your mind, Herr Doktor, you may come to me, and I will put you out of your misery. Now, to begin. We can protect you from the Resistance, since we have the Golem, and they respect that. We are a sort of independent power at the moment, as you know.'

'I do know, Herr Hutchinson, but not for long will you keep that power.'

'Pray we keep that power long enough, Herr Doktor.'

'My correct title is Herr Doktor Doktor, Herr Hutchinson.'

'Fuck your correct title, Herr Doktor. Start talking. Talk fast. Tell me everything I need to know. Hand over all your papers. Name all your accomplices, and I will give you a full day's head start.'

'A day! Only a day?'

'It should be enough, for a slimy snake like you to find a new hole to slither into,' Hutch pointed out.

 

**********************

 

'These are all your papers, Herr Doktor?' Hutch asked.

'Of a certainty, Herr Hutchinson.'

'With you, little is a certainty except your lies -- but enough is enough. The papers are a beginning. I tire of your company. You have, as I promised, a full day's start before we alert the Resistance to your continued existence. Use them wisely.'

The doktor coughed. 'I could use some money, as well,' he pointed out.

'Money, Herr Doktor? Why should I give you money?'

'Well, if you won't give me money, you might buy my possessions from me. For example, I own a house, which I cannot take with me. Perhaps you could use it as your headquarters for your Independent Power.'

'Headquarters for my Independent Power? Why not, indeed? Show me your house, Herr Doktor.'

 

*********************

 

'What do you think, Starsky?'

'What do I think about what?' Starsky asked in his turn.

'About the house, Starsky.'

Starsky looked around at the strange house his lover had brought him to see, all without any prior explanation. 'What should I think about it, Hutch? It is indeed a house. Did you need my agreement on that?'

'Think about living in it. We've been sleeping in other people's beds, and on the ground, long enough.'

'Is that why you bought the house?' he asked. But he smiled.

'Among other reasons,' said Hutch. 'It's well situated. Quiet. Inconspicuous. The bedroom has a nice view of the City.'

'Who cares about the view from the bedroom, as long as it has a bed?'

'It has a bed. I checked.'

 

************************

 

'Look what we found,' said Starsky, triumphantly. He brandished a bottle of wine, so covered in dust that the label was unreadable. Starsky was rubbing at it with a damp cloth. 'Aha!' he crowed, and shoved the bottle under Hutch's nose. 'It's kosher! That should make you happy.'

Hutchinson laughed, and went back to studying the papers the good Doktor Reimann had handed over to them. He wasn't sure how much help they would be in the end, but some clues might be worth tracking down.

Starsky was chattering on. 'The Doctor thinks most of the food stored in the basement is still viable, as he puts it. He's setting up a laboratory to do proper scientific studies of the matter. In another month or so, he might allow us to open a can of soup. In the meantime....'

Starsky had found a corkscrew and was industriously attempting to open the bottle of wine. The cork popped out, and a little wine dribbled over his hands. He licked them clean. 'Not bad,' he announced, and grinned at Hutch. He poured out three glasses and brought them to the table. 'I think our Doctor is too busy to join us right now,' he told the Pilot. 'But I can go look for him, and try to persuade him to do so, against his better judgement, if you wish.'

'I'm too busy to care,' the Pilot announced.

'If you say so. But what are you reading, that's so much more interesting than the Doctor's conversation?'

'Letters, and other papers formerly belonging to Herr Doktor Reimann,' said the Pilot, ignoring Starsky's gibes.

'You mean Herr Doktor Doktor Reimann,' said Starsky. 'Correct titles are important.'

He watched Hutch out of the corner of his eye, but Hutch didn't smile. This troubled Starsky. Lately, they had all been assuming cheerfulness as a sort of armour. That the Allies would win the war was a foregone conclusion, but Hitler held on. Dresden was being bombed, night after night, and untold numbers of people were dying. Starsky wondered if anything more terrible had ever happened in the history of the world, or ever would. He didn't want to know the answer.

He put his hand on Hutch's arm, and almost jumped in shock. Hutch was as tense as a live wire. He was staring at a letter in front of him, and his face was as white as the paper.

'What is so terrible?' Starsky asked. 'Let me see.' He reached for the letter.

Hutch pulled the paper away, almost angrily. 'It's nothing,' he said.

'Not nothing, if it makes you look like you've seen a ghost. You! What could make you look like that? Let me see.'

Starsky grabbed the letter out of Hutch's hands. Both Hutch and the Pilot stared at him in shock. Starsky was not usually so demanding. But then, Hutch rarely tried to deny Starsky anything he asked for, and this attempt worried him.

He read the letter. Most of it meant nothing to him, and he began to think he'd imagined Hutch's shock. Then, a name jumped out at him.

'Vanessa Hutchinson,' he said. He looked up at Hutch. 'Is she a relative of yours?' he asked.

'In a manner of speaking,' Hutchinson said. 'She's my wife.'

 

***************************

 

'Starsky?' asked Hutchinson, quietly. 'Do you think it's safe to be standing out there? There are snipers about.'

Starsky was out on the balcony of their bedroom, looking out over the darkening City. Paris was still under the law of blackout, and no lights were permitted. It was February, and darkness fell early. Probably Starsky was safe enough, all things being considered. But safe enough, when it came to Starsky, was never safe enough.

'Please come inside,' Hutchinson begged.

Starsky turned to him, with a tender smile. 'I should be the safest person in Paris right now,' he said.

'Because of the Golem?' asked Hutchinson.

'No. Because one's problems are rarely solved by death,' he answered.

Hutch closed his eyes. When he opened them, Starsky was gazing into his face, his eyes full of tears.

'I'm sorry,' Starsky said. 'I didn't mean to hurt you. I always knew, or I should have known. If you were in the SS, you had to be married. Is she beautiful, and blonde?'

'Yes,' said Hutch. 'It means nothing. I didn't hide her existence from you. Not intentionally. I haven't considered myself married, since our wedding night, when I learned... Never mind. It doesn't matter now. If her existence troubles you so much, there's an answer. I'll find her, and kill her.'

Starsky didn't flinch. He didn't look condemnatory. He looked at Hutch with great tenderness and understanding. 'That's a bit extreme,' he said. 'You could simply divorce her, now that the Nazis are no longer in power. Or perhaps she's already dead.'

'I doubt that,' said Hutch. 'Vanessa always lands on her feet.'

 

**************************

 

Starsky was making the bed. He was doing it very quietly, and Hutchinson missed his usual chatter. On the other hand, he was moving with more grace than Hutchinson remembered seeing since those first days in the Warsaw Ghetto. His body was thin, but tough and wiry. For the last year, he'd been eating regularly, and sleeping properly, wrapped in Hutch's arms. He said that Hutch's love banished all fear.

Starsky finished tucking the blankets in, and studied the bed, critically. He looked up at Hutch with a smile. 'Why am I worrying?' he asked. 'We'll only mess it up again.'

'Will we?' asked Hutchinson, before he could stop himself. Love makes idiots of us all, he thought.

'Of course we will,' said Starsky. 'Why won't we? Is something wrong?'

'Not on my side,' said Hutch. 'I thought you weren't happy with me.'

'I'm not happy with you,' Starsky said. 'I'm in love with you. You trouble me. You bring me great joy, and great pain. I wouldn't trade any of that for anything so fleeting and inconspicuous as happiness.'

'Then you're angry about Vanessa. Or because I didn't tell you about her.'

'Sit. Here.' Starsky pointed at the bed. Hutch slouched over and sat. Starsky sat beside him for a time, in silence.

'Marriage is sacred,' he said, at last. 'We committed adultery.'

Hutch laughed, until the tears streamed down his face. He scarcely noticed when they became real tears, and Starsky pulled him into his arms in a rough embrace.

'You don't believe that, Starsky,' he managed to gasp. 'You can't believe it.'

'I believe it. But, I believe you when you say it wasn't a real marriage.'

'It wasn't. It never was. When I married her, I thought she was pure and innocent.'

It was Starsky who laughed, this time. 'Were you?' he asked. 'Pure and innocent, I mean?'

'No. I wasn't. But I didn't pretend to be. She did. She let me think she was a virgin, and I believed her. I treated her as if she were made of spun glass. I was so gentle... and then she laughed at me, and told me the truth. She bragged that Hitler fucked her, and did a better job. I said, if that were the case, she could go back to him, for all I cared. She only wanted my name, and my money, and the respectability of being a married woman. And I suppose, things could have been worse. She never troubled me much. She didn't question my activities. Any of them.'

'So, you didn't get so bad a deal.'

'I wasn't looking for a deal. I suppose, in a way, I was the pure and innocent one. I was looking for love. Someone to save my soul. My parents arranged the marriage, you see. They knew I was reluctant to get married, even if they didn't know the reason. They found Vanessa. She was from a good Aryan family. A member of the Nazi party. She was a good actress, too. I agreed to the marriage. It wasn't forced upon me. I thought perhaps it wouldn't be so bad, to have a family after all, even if it was required of all good Nazis. Now I can see. That might have been a trap. One step at a time, I might have been lured further and further into their world. Sometimes, love and trust can lead you into evil. Anger and hatred can save you, as much as love ever can.'

'Can it, Hutch? That's a bleak philosophy.' said Starsky.

'It's all I've had to hold onto, at times,' Hutch answered.

'But now, you can hold onto me,' said Starsky.

'Do you still think we'd be committing adultery, if we lay together?' Hutch asked.

'Yes, but it would be worth it,' Starsky answered. He pulled Hutch down to lie above him. 'This is what I like,' he said.

'I know what you like,' Hutch answered.

'No, no,' Starsky whispered. 'Pretend it's the first time. Let me teach you.'

'Teach me,' said Hutch. 'I'm pure and innocent.'

************************

'It's a bit difficult for one man to fuck another man, but it can be done,' said Starsky, with great sweetness.

'That's good,' said Hutchinson. 'Because I want to fuck you.'

'I know,' said Starsky. 'I can tell. Your cock is swollen, and I don't think it will fit inside me, without some help.'

'Help?' asked Hutchinson. He looked as if he were about to laugh, but managed to keep a straight face.

'We need something slippery, like oil. Rub it on your cock and it will slide right in.'

Hutchinson did laugh, at that assertion. 'You're sure?' he asked.

'I'm sure,' said Starsky. He stretched, happily. 'I'm very sure. Have a look in the bedside table.'

Starsky had hidden a bottle of oil in the drawer. He grinned, as Hutchinson opened it, and poured some in his hand.

'So?' said Hutch. 'I just rub it on my cock?'

'That's what you do. Do you need my help?'

Starsky lay back, and watched Hutch out of lidded eyes. Hutch was in one of his tender moods. He was preparing Starsky thoroughly, stretching him far more than was necessary. Usually, by now, Starsky would be impatient, demanding that Hutch get on with it. But he remembered Hutch's story about his wedding night with Vanessa. He decided to let Hutch treat him like an innocent virgin, as if he were made of spun glass.

'Now what do I do?' Hutch whispered.

'Put your cock inside me. Slowly. Carefully. It's big. But not too big. Don't worry. It will fit.'

Hutch's cock was big. There was always a moment, at the beginning, when Starsky truly wasn't sure it would fit. But it always did. Hutch closed his eyes, as he pressed inside Starsky's body. Starsky kept his eyes open, watching. Watching as their bodies joined.

'There!' he said. 'Do you like that?'

Hutch's answer was wordless, but Starsky understood. They began to move, together, moving as if they were one body. A wave built up, far out to sea. It gathered other waves as it journeyed to the shore, until it was a tidal wave of enormous proportions. When it crashed upon the shore, they let it shake them to their foundations, and carry them out to sea, again.

They lay together in peace for some time, when they were finished. The world was still at war, Starsky thought, and he had no right to be so happy and contented. Or did he? His greatest fears were over. They were alive, and together, and never far from each other's touch. If they died, they died together. They were in their own bed, in their own bedroom, in their own house. They lived in a country where their love was not illegal. No one could tear them from each other's arms, and send them to prison for making love.

Starsky sighed.

'Am I too heavy?' Hutch whispered.

'Not at all,' Starsky murmured.

But Hutch rolled them over so that Starsky was on top. They fell asleep, feeling perfectly safe for the first time in their lives, together or apart.

 

***********************

 

It was later. Much later. Something woke Starsky out of a sound sleep. A sound, but not a sound. A call from somewhere deep inside him, or from the outer reaches of the cosmos. Which? Starsky wasn't sure. He slid out from under Hutch's arm, and pulled on his warm robe. He opened the doors out onto the balcony, and stepped into the moonlight. The moon and the stars were all that lit the City, but his eyes were accustomed to the dark. He stared about for some time, wondering what it was that had drawn him out here.

He looked down. All he could see of the Golem was the top of its head, but as he stared, the creature moved. It walked out, into the empty street. It turned, and looked up at the balcony, and Starsky watching from above. The moon lit its face. The moon, which suddenly was as bright as the sun. The Golem's face was blank, its eyes empty. Yet, the creature seemed sentient, more sentient than Starsky had ever seen it. Oddly enough, Starsky had the impression that its eyes were dark, not from emptiness, but from sorrow. It must have been a fantasy, spawned by the late hour, and the mysteries spun by the moon and the stars, he thought. And he turned and went indoors, back to Hutch's warm arms

 

************************

 

Starsky awoke from muddled dreams. Hutch was already awake, as usual, and had left their bed. Their bed, thought Starsky. That was a sweet thought, even if it had been owned by a Nazi before Hutch bought it. There was a sweet, poetic justice about the situation, in truth.

Starsky slipped out of their bed, and wrapped himself in his robe. The Golem was standing guard before the house door, and didn't move as Starsky looked down from the balcony. Perhaps last night's strangeness had only been part of his muddled dreams after all.

Hutch was in the kitchen, sitting at the table drinking coffee. He didn't look up as Starsky entered the room, but he pushed a plate of toast in Starsky's direction. He went on staring into his coffee cup, as Starsky ate breakfast.

'Who died?' Starsky asked, at last.

'Last night? Thousands of people.'

'Thousands of people die every night, even when there isn't a war,' Starsky pointed out. 'Why get so upset about last night?'

'I'm not upset, I'm just thinking.'

'Brooding,' said Starsky.

Hutch ignored him. 'I had a strange dream,' he said.

'Ah!'

Hutch looked across the table at him. His eyes were dark, and his face was white and strained. 'There was something surreal about the dream. About the world I was in,' he said.

'There usually is something surreal about dreams. Doesn't the word surreal refer to the dream state?'

'Perhaps it does, but this surreal dream state was stranger than most. So unbelievable it was. I was in a field, looking up at the sky. A foreign sky, in a foreign country I think. Far off in the distance, I could see a great city. Then, I heard a noise. A plane flying overhead. A bomber. A very large bomber. It flew over me, and on toward the city.'

Hutch stopped talking. He got up and poured himself another cup of coffee. He sat down at the table and drank the coffee in silence for several minutes. Then, he looked up at Starsky again, and went on.

'The bomber flew toward the city, and it dropped its bomb. There was a terrible flash of fire. A great cloud appeared in the sky. It wasn't a shapeless cloud. That was one of the strangest things about the dream. The cloud had a shape.'

Hutch paused in his story telling again to drink coffee. Just when Starsky thought he'd have to prompt Hutch to go on, he resumed.

'The cloud was shaped like a mushroom, Starsky. A mushroom. Why a mushroom? How could my subconcious create such an odd detail? What does it mean, in dream imagery?'

Before Starsky could attempt to answer, though he had no idea what he could have said, Hutch said, 'And then, the city disappeared.'

'What?' asked Starsky.

'The city. It disappeared. The bomb destroyed the whole city, as I watched. I stood there, and watched someone drop a bomb on a city, and kill everyone there. And I did nothing.'

'You didn't know what they were going to do, Hutch. And how could you have stopped them, anyway?'

'And then, the mushroom began to drift toward me, and I ran, and I ran, and....'

'Hutch! Hutch it was just a dream.'

'Who could be evil enough to create such a bomb, and then use it? Starsky, remember what you said about creating more and more powerful weapons to fight evil? Do you think such a bomb could ever exist? There must have been thousands of people in that city. Hundreds of thousands. And they died in an instant.'

'It was a dream, Hutch,' Starsky said, firmly. 'Forget it.'

'Forget what?' asked a voice from the kitchen doorway. Starsky looked up. It was the Pilot. He smiled. 'Hutch had a bad dream,' Starsky told their friend.

'Who doesn't these days? Even Hitler must be having nightmares by now.' The Pilot didn't sound upset by the idea. 'There's a delegation outside. Did you know?'

'A delegation?' Hutch asked. 'A delegation from whom?'

'Who isn't in the delegation is more the question,' said the Pilot. 'The Resistance. The Allies. The interim Paris City Hall. The French Forces of the Interior. General de Gaulle.'

'De Gaulle? Really? What an honour. Are you certain? Why would he come to visit us?'

'I am certain. The man is hard to mistake, after all. I don't know why he is visiting us. Shall we ask him?'

Hutch looked at Starsky, and Starsky nodded. 'Why not?' he asked. 'I am curious about why he would visit us, as part of such a delegation. But, we are an independent power, and this is our headquarters.'

'I meant that as a joke,' said Hutch.

'People might have laughed,' said Starsky. 'If it weren't for the Golem.'

 

***********************

 

Starsky followed the Pilot to the front door. The Golem was standing just outside, impassively surveying the crowd awaiting entry. Hutch came up behind Starsky and rested his hand on his shoulder for a moment. The Golem seemed to awake, and turned toward them. His face was blank as always. Hutch didn't appear to notice the Golem's actions.

'We've agreed to discuss your concerns with you all,' said the Pilot to the delegation. 'Whatever they may be. Would you like to come inside?'

General de Gaulle eyed the Golem. His expression revealed no apprehension, but he didn't move forward.

'Don't let our little pet worry you,' said Hutchinson. 'He doesn't bite. At least not often.'

'That's not what we've heard,' said the General.

'And what have you heard?' asked Hutchinson. 'Never mind. Please come inside and join us for breakfast, if you like. The Golem doesn't eat. He'll wait out here. Won't you?' Hutch addressed the Golem, teasingly.

The creature shifted slightly. He bowed his head, and turned back to survey the street.

'See?' asked Hutch. 'He's very well behaved. Better behaved than most humans I've met.'

The delegation looked around the house nervously, as they followed Starsky to the kitchen. Starsky wondered what they expected to jump out at them. Rumours about the men who had raised the Golem were rife, and grew with the telling, but were based on some truth. It had not gone without notice that he and Hutch were very close, and shared a bed.

The Pilot found chairs for all their guests. Hutch made fresh coffee. They all sat down and drank coffee in an uncomfortable silence.

'Well,' said Starsky. 'And what can we do for you gentlemen?'

One member of the delegation looked up from his coffee cup. He wore the uniform of an officer in the American Armed Forces, with a Major's insignia. 'You might give us your assurances that you have no intentions of using the Golem any further,' he said.

'We shall give no one any such assurances,' said Hutchinson. 'The Golem is ours to use, for as long as we wish to do so. If that is all you had to say for yourselves....'

'No,' said the American. 'It is not all we have to say. We don't appreciate the fact that you moved in here, and bought a house. A house from a Nazi, we are informed. You are a Nazi yourself, though you cohabit with a Jew.'

The last few words were spoken in accents of extreme disgust. Starsky wasn't sure which word in particular distressed the speaker the most. Was it Nazi, Jew, or cohabit?

'I am not a Nazi,' said Hutch, dismissively. 'You and your army have moved in, appropriated houses without buying them, and show no signs of leaving any time soon.'

'Your Golem is dangerous,' said the officer. 'It has killed people.'

'Not people,' said Hutchinson. 'Nazis. More coffee?'

'Don't trifle with me,' said the officer. 'I am not to be trifled with.'

'I disagree,' said Hutch. 'And I will trifle with whomever I please.'

'Gentlemen!' said General de Gaulle. 'We are wasting time with such arguments. Monsieur Hutchinson. Monsieur Starsky.' He raised an eyebrow at the Pilot, who looked away as if he didn't understand the question. 'We are merely concerned about the power the Golem represents, and what might happen in the future. All the stories state that the creature eventually becomes uncontrollable. That is all.'

'The Golem remains under our control,' said Hutchinson.

'At the present time,' said de Gaulle.

'What other time is there?' asked Starsky. 'The future is not yet here. The past is past.'

'You were the one who raised the Golem, were you not?' asked another member of the delegation, in an English accent.

'I was,' said Starsky. 'With the help of my friends, of course. I am the one who truly controls the creature. But my friends have some influence over it.'

'And what would happen if you were to die?' asked the American.

'It is likely that the Golem would go on a rampage, for there would be no one to control it.'

'Are you certain of tha.... Uh!'

Hutchinson had moved with blinding speed. The American Major was up against the wall, his throat in a vice-like grip, before anyone in the room could draw a breath to speak.

'Starsky is certain of that,' said Hutch, with vicious softness. 'I am certain of that. You keep any uncertainty you may be inclined to feel to yourself from now on, because it means nothing. If anything should happen to Starsky, it is not only the Golem you should fear. The Golem is indestructible, but an unreasoning brute. I am not.'

'Hutch,' said Starsky, mildly.

Hutchinson released the American, and turned away, as if he'd just stepped on a bug, and was finished with it. The Major didn't look quite so blithe. He choked for a moment, then recovered and started after Hutchinson, his face red with anger.

Loud footsteps echoed down the hall. The Major was reaching for Hutchinson, when he stopped, and stared at the doorway. They all turned. The Golem stood there. His face was blank, but his eyes reminded Starsky of the night before.

'There! You see!' said the Major. 'He's supposed to be guarding the front door, isn't he? But he comes inside. What's he going to do next?'

'That's up to you,' said Starsky. 'If you leave quietly, he'll go back to his post. If you don't....'

'We're leaving,' said the Major. 'But I suggest you leave as well.'

'Leave?' asked Starsky. 'We just got here, and we like it. We're bothering no one. You should try that sometime.'

The Major looked at his fellow delegation members, but they were looking anywhere but at him. 'Well,' he said. 'I see I'm not wanted. I'll have words to say about that in the future.' He stomped out. The Golem ignored him.

'Americans!' said de Gaulle. 'They have their uses, to be sure, but they're hard to get rid of, when you no longer need them. This is our country, and it's for us to say who lives here.'

'We would like to take up residence in France,' said Hutchinson. 'Perhaps become citizens.'

'We believe you earned that right with your help in liberating Paris,' said de Gaulle. 'We are still concerned about the Golem, but as long as it causes no trouble...'

'We will see that it does not,' said Starsky. 'If it does, I will handle it.'

'Fair enough, Monsieur Starsky. Au revoir.'

'Au revoir,' said Starsky.

'Au revoir,' said Hutchinson.

The Pilot said nothing. Neither did the Golem.

 

*******************

 

'What do you think?' Hutchinson asked the Pilot.

'About what? The delegation?'

'The delegation, and their threats,' said Hutch.

'The American was crude, but honest, like most Americans. The General -- like most Frenchmen, he says one thing, and means another. I think he poses more of a threat than the Major.'

'I agree, but a threat is a threat. I say we should boost our security forces.'

'That will reassure the Americans and the Free French that we pose no threat to them,' Starsky pointed out, sarcastically.

'I'm not interested in reassuring anyone. I thought I made that clear,' Hutchinson stated.

'Oh. You are angry with me. Are you going to punish me severely?'

'Please do, Hutch, and let me watch,' said the Pilot.

'What is it you want to watch now?' asked a new voice from the kitchen door. They all looked up. The Doctor had decided to join them. He was yawning, and rubbing his eyes.

The Pilot's face brightened, but he covered that quickly, and affected an irritated expression. 'If you woke up at a decent hour, you'd know,' he said.

'I am very wide awake at indecent hours,' said the Doctor. 'I thought you liked that.' He strode over to the table, leaned down and kissed the Pilot on the mouth, without asking for consent. His victim did not protest.

Starsky grinned and watched them for a moment, with enjoyment. He glanced at Hutch who was pretending to be bored, and studying the ceiling, blandly. Then, Starsky turned to look at the Golem. The Golem was watching the two men embrace. If such a thing weren't impossible, Starsky would have thought the creature was interested in the proceedings. But, such a thing was impossible.

Golems had no sexuality. They had no sexual organs, at least. And yet, they were made of water and clay, to represent man and woman. This Golem had been woken by four men. Four passionate men. Perhaps they had imbued the creature with some of their passion. Passion was a basic element of life in the cosmos.

The Golem turned and walked toward the house door. Starsky rose, and followed. The Golem resumed his watch, which had been interrupted by the delegation. Starsky touched him on his shoulder. 'I did not call to you to come,' he said. 'Why did you come?'

The Golem turned and looked into Starsky's eyes. He did not speak, for he could not.

'What is wrong?' asked Hutch from the door.

'Nothing,' said Starsky. 'Nothing is wrong. Everything is well. Everything is as it should be.'

Everything was as it always was, thought Starsky. One of the basic elements of life in the cosmos as he knew it, was sorrow.

 

***************************

 

Starsky was shaving. Hutch's face appeared behind his in the mirror,  
and Hutch's arms slid around his shoulders.

'Careful,' said Starsky. 'Don't make me cut myself.'

Hutch watched him remove the last of his whiskers.

'You like watching me shave,' said Starsky.

'I like watching you do anything. I like watching you breathe. And I'm  
not, you know.'

'Not what?'

'Not angry at you. Why would I be angry with you? And I'm never going  
to punish you.'

'That was a joke,' said Starsky.

'Not a funny joke. I don't find sado-masochism amusing. It reminds me  
of things I'd rather forget.'

Starsky sighed. 'Living with you right now, is like living in a  
minefield,' he said.

'Starsky?' asked Hutch, plaintively.

'Shh. We'll figure it out. We've lived through worse.'

'Am I really that bad?' asked Hutch.

'No. You're that good,' said Starsky. 'You haven't had the chance to  
be yourself, before. You've had to play the good SS officer, always,  
unless you were with me, in bed. Who are you, Kenneth Hutchinson? What  
are you? Look in the mirror, and tell me what you see.'

Hutch looked in the mirror. He studied his own face, as if he'd never  
seen it before. Perhaps he hadn't, Starsky thought. Perhaps he had  
never really taken the time to look too closely. He'd created a picture  
in his mind of who and what he should be, and worn it like a mask.

'I know who I want to be,' said Hutch. 'Your lover. Someone you can be  
proud of. Someone who does what is right, no matter what the  
consequences. But I'm not sure I can be that person yet. I'm not sure  
if it's safe, in this world. We're still in a dangerous situation,  
neshomeleh.'

'We may never be in any other kind of situation,' said Starsky.

Hutch turned to him, away from his reflection in the mirror. 'I'm not  
afraid for myself,' he said.

'I know,' said Starsky.

'I'm afraid for you.'

'You don't have to protect me,' said Starsky. He watched Hutch's face  
turn pale. 'I mean, I'm getting stronger every day. I'm your equal now, or  
nearly. We've been fighting side by side. Don't let me hold you back.'

Starsky put his arms around Hutch, and settled his head on Hutch's  
shoulder, as he had so often in the past, when he'd been weak and unable  
to go on. Now he felt strong. 'Let me be strong for you,' he said.

'You are strong,' said Hutch. 'You saved my soul.'

'Let me go on saving it. You have the chance to be Kenneth Hutchinson.  
Don't carry the shell of the SS around with you. We need allies among  
the Allies.'

'I don't trust them, Starsky. I won't explain myself to them, or try to  
accommodate myself to them. They'll see that as weakness, and attack.'

'Thus speaks the SS officer. Don't judge them all by a few bad  
examples. Isn't that bigotry? Isn't that what the Pilot did to the  
Jews? No, no. Allow me to speak. Allow my voice to drown out the  
voice of the SS.' Starsky lifted his head from Hutch's shoulder, and  
turned to study his own reflection in the mirror. 'Some people see my  
face, and see a Jew. They see a subhuman. A creature, grasping and  
avaricious. They see you. You look like a Nazi, still. So does the  
Pilot. We have the Golem under our control, but who knows what our  
intentions are. It's not weakness, to forge alliances among those who  
surround us.'

'I don't trust easily,' said Hutch.

'You trusted me easily,' Starsky pointed out.

'Something in you, called to me. Your soul. Your heart. Your body.  
Everything in you called to me.'

'I've been making a few enquiries,' said Starsky.

'Have you? Enquiries about what?'

'About the Allies. Individuals among them. Dealing with faceless  
masses in identical uniforms is never easy. I have a list of people to  
contact.' Starsky drew a piece of paper out of his pocket. He handed  
it to Hutch. 'These people might not judge us. They might be willing  
to see us as human.'

'Major Thomas Findley?'

'He's with the Canadian Army. Go on.'

'Colonel Francis Howard. British.'

'Yes, and the last name looks promising.'

'Captain Harold Dobey?'

'The American. He's the Captain of a Infantry troop. I haven't met  
many Negroes. A whole troop of them should be interesting.'

 

**********************

 

They were walking through the streets of Paris, the Golem trudging faithfully behind. Starsky wasn't happy about having to walk, but Hutchinson had insisted.

'The Golem won't fit in the car, Starsky,' he had pointed out, unnecessarily. 'His knees don't bend properly, and he weighs too much. He'd break the springs.'

'Let's leave him behind, Hutch,' said Starsky.

'I'm not taking chances with your life like that. Not after what the Major said. Even now, a sniper could have you in his sights.' Hutch looked around, ready to throw himself on top of Starsky at the first sign something wasn't Kosher.

'Relax. Stop being my bodyguard. This is Paris, and it's a lovely day, and the Nazis are on the run.'

'Not fast enough,' Hutchinson pointed out. 'Not far enough.'

'Farther and faster than I once thought possible. Once they seemed undefeatable.'

'Certainly they thought they were,' Hutchinson declared.

'Do you remember the first time we met?' Starsky asked.

'Yes. It was in the basement of the Synagogue in Warsaw. I was teaching members of the Z.O.D. how to use guns. Some of them didn't know which end of a gun was which. You were one of them.'

'I meant, the first time we... Met.'

'Oh, that. Why would I remember that?'

'You are teasing me, Herr Hutchinson,' said Herr Starsky.

'I am teasing you. But you -- all this is hock a chinick!'

'I know. Humour me. You were beautiful and brave, and I wanted you. You were like a little boy looking in a store window at the toys he knows he can't have, but wants anyway. Maybe he'll break the window to steal them. Even when I took off all my clothes and offered myself, you still looked like that. So flattering, Hutch, considering I was mostly unwashed and ragged and half starved.'

Hutchinson looked down at the pavement beneath his feet. It was pockmarked, from bullets and shrapnel, and home-made bombs. There was dried blood in the cracks, Hutchinson thought.

'Hutch?' Starsky whispered.

'I'm still that little boy,' said Hutch. 'Even when I'm so deep inside your body, I can feel your heart beating on the end of my cock.'

'Is that little boy the real Kenneth Hutchinson?'

'Maybe. I'm still not certain.'

'You have time to decide,' said Starsky. 'Time to learn.'

'I hope so,' said Hutch.

'There it is,' said Starsky. 'The American Cafe.' He turned to the Golem. 'Wait outside the door,' he said. 'Don't bother the people going in and out, unless they bother us.'

The Golem nodded, and took up his post. Starsky and Hutch walked into the cafe, side by side. A tall, Black man was sitting at one of the tables, drinking coffee. He looked up as they walked toward him, and got to his feet.

'Herr Starsky? Herr Hutchinson?' he asked, in an American accent.

'The very same,' said Hutchinson, in English. 'You are Captain Dobey?'

The Black man looked relieved. He nodded. 'I am glad that you speak English,' he said. 'I only speak a few words of German, and they aren't for polite company.'

Hutchinson smiled. 'Nor is most of my German,' he said.

'What are you saying, Hutch?' asked Starsky.

'We are discussing you, neshomeleh. He's offering to buy you for some American cigarettes.'

'I might get more than that for you, if I ask around,' said Starsky.

The American Captain smiled, and watched them blandly. 'Have a seat?' he offered. 'Let me buy you some coffee?'

'Danke,' said Hutchinson. 'Coffee, before business.'

'And what is our business, exactly?' asked the Captain.

'It is Starsky who knows that,' said Hutchinson. 'And he doesn't speak English.'

'This is going to be an interesting meeting,' Captain Dobey observed.

 

*******************

 

'Have you completed the sale of me, Hutch? Or are you still bargaining?'

'Still bargaining, neshomeleh. He's throwing in some gasoline for my car.'

'Your car?' Starsky raised his eyebrows. Since when was the car Hutch's?

'I think he siphons it from the army trucks,' said Hutch.

'That could get him in trouble, if he were found out,' said Starsky.

'I'm not going to tell.'

They were walking along the banks of the Seine. The Left Bank. Captain Dobey was watching a houseboat moor at a quay.

'I grew up in Mississippi,' he announced. 'Right on the banks of the river, in fact.'

'Do you miss your home?' asked Hutchinson.

'I miss my family. Oh, yes, and in a way I suppose I miss Mississippi. I was born there. But it's no longer my home. I can't live there any longer. Fighting the war, and living in Paris has shown me that. The Negro won his freedom in the Civil War, but it's made little difference in our lives, at least in the South. We still can't vote.'

'And yet, you fight in their army,' said Hutchinson.

'It's my army,' said Captain Dobey. 'I consider myself American. Don't you consider yourself German?'

'Norwegian,' said Hutchinson. 'If I had to choose a nationality.'

'Just exactly what do you expect me to do for you?' asked Dobey. 'I'm only a Captain, and a captain of a Buffalo Troop, at that.'

'Buffalo Troop?' asked Hutchinson.

'A troop of Black soldiers. When the troops were first formed, the Indians called the soldiers Buffalo soldiers, because they were so large, like the buffalo. The name stuck.'

'I see. I don't think Starsky chose to contact you because he thought you had power. Quite the opposite. He wants to make friends among the Allies. He chose you because he thought you might be willing to be friends.'

'Friends? To what end?'

'I think Starsky wants to stop the Allies from fighting among themselves. And from fighting us.'

'Good luck to him. I'm not sure the Allies want to be your friends. They see you as dangerous.'

'We are dangerous,' said Hutch. 'They want us to shut down the Golem, but we won't. The Golem stays,' He looked back over his shoulder, at the large clay figure that shadowed them on their stroll.

'I can see their point,' said Dobey. 'You are free agents, and you have an indestructible weapon. Why should they trust you?'

'Why should I trust the Allied Armies? Because after they defeat Hitler, they are going home to destroy their own arsenals, declare universal suffrage, and create a world of peace and prosperity?'

'You sound bitter,' said Dobey.

'Hitler was a madman,' said Hutch. 'That's the general consensus. I knew Hitler. Not well, but well enough, which was too well. It was terrifying how ordinary he was, at least at first. I've known men who were supposed to be on our side, who behaved far more brutally. Jews escaped from concentration camps, only to be shot by the Resistance advancing from the Eastern front. Anyone could tell they weren't Nazis. Starsky and I have saved people's lives, only to be spat on, when they learned about our relationship.'

'Your relationship?' asked Dobey.

'Yes. You should know this from the beginning, so there won't be any stunning shocks later on. We're queer.'

'Queer?' asked Dobey. Clearly he was mystified. So much for simple, one syllable explanations.

'We love each other. More than ordinary friends. We're homosexuals. We lie together in the same bed. This bothers some people. They see us as less than men.'

Dobey strolled on in silence for a moment. 'I've known some men in my troop who were closer than friends,' he said at last. 'At first, it bothered me. But we fought side by side, and it bothered me less, as I got to know them.'

Starsky had been listening to the conversation, though he didn't understand more than a few words. He listened to Hutch's tone of voice. He caught the word "love". That was one of the few English words he knew. At one time, he'd amused himself by learning the words for love in every language he could find. He wondered what Hutch was saying about love, and if he'd agree. The banks of the Seine were busy this time of day. Couples strolled along, hand in hand. Men and women, of course. He couldn't hold Hutch's hand, even if it weren't strictly illegal. It would upset people, for some reason he'd never understood.

Hutch was still talking to the American Captain in English. He seemed to be pointing something out, making one of his firm statements. Captain Dobey nodded. Had they reached an agreement, of sorts?

Starsky felt a bit left out. This was nonsense, he knew. It was simply that he didn't know the language. He looked about, as if he weren't paying attention to the other men's conversation at all. The river, the houseboats, and the strolling couples, in the gathering dusk of a late February afternoon in Paris, was a fascinating picture. A woman stepped out on the deck of one of the houseboats. She wore a dark shapeless dress, and a scarf over her head, but there was something arresting about her carriage. She carried herself as if she were beautiful, and knew it. A breeze stirred her hair, and tendrils of it escaped the scarf. The hair was blonde.

Starsky felt Hutch stir beside him, as if in answer to the breeze. He turned to his lover, and saw that Hutch was staring at the woman on the deck. The woman seemed to notice her audience, and disappeared, as quickly as she had manifested herself.

Hutch shook himself out of his reverie. 'It's getting late,' he said to Starsky, in Yiddish. 'It will be dark soon. We should head home.'

'If you like,' said Starsky.

Hutch turned to Captain Dobey, and said something in English. Probably the same excuse he'd just made to Starsky. Since when did darkness bother Hutch, he wondered. But he said nothing. Neither did Hutch. The Golem was quiet, as always. They walked home in silence.

 

*************************

 

The Pilot and the Witch Doctor were out, when they got back to the house. Of course, thought Starsky. It's nowhere close to dinner time. Why are we home so early?

Hutch bustled them indoors, made tea for Starsky. He insisted Starsky eat something, as if it were a year ago, and Starsky were about to collapse from hunger. Starsky still got hungry every few hours, so he didn't complain. But he wondered why Hutch was fussing over him so obviously. He was quite capable of getting something to eat on his own. He opened his mouth to ask, but Hutch leant down, and kissed his lips. He nuzzled Starsky's neck, and blew gently into his ear.

'We're all alone in the house,' he whispered. 'Let's go to bed. Our own bed.' Hutch gently nibbled on Starsky's earlobe, sending shivers down his spine, all the way to his cock.

The thought of their own bed, and what Hutch might do for him there, drove every other thought from Starsky's mind. He followed Hutch up the stairs, and into their bedroom. Hutch pulled the covers off the bed, and invited Starsky to make himself naked and comfortable.

He filled Starsky slowly and gently, then gave way to the passion he knew Starsky craved. They hadn't made love quite so violently since that last night in the Warsaw Ghetto, before the Nazis invaded and burnt the Ghetto to the ground. Hutch cried out with passion and pleasure and drove Starsky higher and higher. When they were finished, he rolled over, and pulled Starsky on top.

'Do that to me, neshomeleh,' he commanded. 'Now!'

Starsky had fucked Hutch before, but not often. It wasn't their favourite position, but how could he refuse? Hutch was hot and silky inside. He tightened his muscles and pulled Starsky deeper and deeper. What had Hutch said, only this morning? Something about being so deep inside Starsky's body, that he could feel his heart beat on the end of his cock. Starsky wondered if that were possible. It was worth trying for, he supposed.

Hutch wound his legs around Starsky's shoulders and opened himself up to the invasion. It was odd, being on top, being the one fucking, but the oddness increased Starsky's excitement. He felt strong, strong enough to satisfy a man like Hutch. Strong enough and powerful enough to fill him, to give him everything he wanted. Strong enough to hold nothing back, to give Hutch his very soul, if necessary.

They came together, and Starsky collapsed on Hutch's warm body. Hutch was murmuring love words, filled with praise and tenderness and gratitude. There was something at the back of Starsky's mind. Something that troubled him. Something he should pay attention to. But Hutch was whispering about love and safety and sleep and how tired they were. The house was quiet. It was dark, and warm and safe in their bed. He fought sleep, but sleep won.

He slept for a while, on the warm body of his sweet lover. He could feel Hutch stroking his hair, and calling him all their special love names, even in the depths of sleep. This was how Hutch had behaved, night after night, while Starsky fought to regain his health. First in the cave in Switzerland. Later, as they marched with the Golem, and liberated camp after camp.  
Even in the depths of sleep, Starsky's soul responded. He felt entirely safe and loved.

Which was why it was odd that a strange dream intruded. A dream in which Hutch slid out of their bed. He was no longer the tender lover, but the fierce fighter who had killed so many Nazis before Starsky's eyes. 'Revenge,' Hutch had insisted. Even when Starsky had protested he wanted and needed no revenge, that revenge was useless, and didn't bring the dead back to life. Nor could it give Starsky back his strength.

'Only your love can do that, Hutch. Give me your love, not revenge.'

At last Hutch had begun to listen. Or so Starsky believed. So why was Hutch talking about revenge again? It must be a bad dream, he thought. He must have been dreaming when he opened his eyes, and saw Hutch putting on the holster that held his Magnum.

'Hutch?' he asked. 'Where are you going? Why do you need your gun?'

'Go back to sleep, neshomeleh. Everything's fine. I'm not going anywhere. Just doing a perimeter check. I'll be back soon. Go to sleep.'

It was Hutch's voice of love, that wrapped him in tenderness and safety. And he didn't seem to have the strength to fight it, though he knew something was wrong. He should wake up, and go after Hutch. Hutch didn't need to check the perimeter of their house. Not with the Golem guarding them. With the Golem guarding them, he didn't need his gun.

But Starsky couldn't keep his eyes open, and sank deeper and deeper into sleep.

 

***********************

 

When he drifted slowly awake, he could hear voices from the rooms below. The Pilot -- Viktor. The Witch Doctor. Not Hutch's voice. He remembered Hutch saying something about checking the house. He should be back now.

Starsky pulled on his discarded clothes, and made his way downstairs. Viktor and the Witch Doctor looked up at him as he entered the living room, and laughed.

'I see what you two have been doing,' said the Witch Doctor. His real name was Cerdachescu Ieronim Tivadar. In Romanian fashion the family name came first. Viktor said his name was too long and unpronounceable and insisted on calling him Vlad the Impaler, though not in public.

'Is the Wolf still asleep, or will he be joining us soon?' asked Vlad.

'No, he's awake. He's around somewhere. I thought he was down here with you.'

'We haven't seen him,' said the Pilot. 'That's odd. He never strays far from your side.'

'Viktor, I thought it was a dream. He left. He took his gun.'

'His gun? No, no. David, you were dreaming. Why would he do that? He must be around somewhere.'

'Hutch is never around somewhere. He's right here beside me, unless he's gone. He took his gun. I saw it. By all the angels in heaven.' The room spun around Starsky, and he scarcely felt the Pilot grab his arm and steer him to the couch.

'David, sit down. What's wrong?'

'Everything. Everything is wrong. Viktor, we were out walking along the Seine this afternoon. A woman appeared on one of the houseboats.'

'Yes. Hardly an unusual occurrence.'

'But Hutch knew this woman. I sensed it. I think I know who she was.'

'Who was she, David,' the Pilot asked.

'She was Vanessa. His wife. He took his gun. He's going to kill her.'

 

***********************

 

'The car is gone,' said Starsky, stupidly. Of course it's gone, you idiot, he thought. Did you think Hutch would walk, and leave the car so you could catch up with him?

'Of course the car is gone, David,' said the Pilot. 'Did you think the Wolf would walk, and let us catch up with him? And why are you worrying so? The Wolf wouldn't murder a defenceless woman in cold blood. You should know that.'

'I do know that,' said Starsky, staring down the street toward the unknown future. The unknown future was dark, and shrouded in fog. It was a scene from an old German film. Or it was a Russian play. Something avant-garde, before Socialist Realism took over.

'Then what's with you?' asked the Pilot.

Starsky thought for a moment. He didn't like to talk to Viktor about private matters between Hutch and himself. But they had a pact. Secrets which could affect them all were verboten. This might affect them all, eventually.

'Hutch offered to kill Vanessa for me,' he said at last. 'So that they would no longer be married, and we wouldn't be committing adultery.'

Viktor stared at him. 'You are joking,' he said. 'Or Hutch was joking. Vanessa isn't his wife. They haven't been married since their wedding night. Surely he told you that?'

'They are married. Legally she is his wife, whether he wishes it, or I wish it, or even if Vanessa wishes it. But that's not the important point here. Hutch offered to kill her. Did you not hear what I said? That's why I'm worried.'

'Hutch offered to kill her? So what? Why didn't you take him up on the offer? What's one more dead Nazi, when we've killed so many? When they killed so many of your friends? This is war, David.'

'I know what this is,' said Starsky. 'And I'm not so much worried about one woman I've never met, when I've seen so much death and suffering. I suppose I've become hardened to it all. What worries me is Hutch. He told me I saved his soul. I don't believe it, myself, but I accepted the charge, nevertheless. He lived the life of a SS officer for too long. He had to do too many things that scorched his soul. I want to save him from this one thing.'

'Perhaps you don't actually have to be there with him to do that, David,' said the Pilot. 'Remember what you told me? That Hutch was with you, the whole time you were in the camps? That his love saved you, even though he was miles away, and didn't even know where you were? Have a little more faith in your love for him.'

Starsky bowed his head, ashamed. 'I do have faith,' he said. 'But Hutch has been strange lately. He's pleased that I'm stronger, don't misunderstand. But I think he believes that I don't need him, anymore. From the time we met, he's been my protector. When I told him he didn't need to protect me, he looked as if I'd stabbed him in the heart.'

 

**************************

 

Hutch parked under one of the bridges over the Seine. He sat for a moment, staring into the shadows. Something flicked from one shadow to another, something with a long tail, and red eyes. Scurrying home to its nest, maybe. War was a good time for rats, he thought. More power to them.

The houseboat was still there, swinging gently on its moorings. He slipped from shadow to shadow, as silently as the rat. He listened carefully, but there were no voices from the houseboat. He swung softly down onto the deck, and pressed against a hatchway, listening even more closely. Nothing. Perhaps Vanessa was out, or perhaps she had even left the area. She might have recognized him, as he had recognized her. More than likely, he thought. Their eyes had met for one moment. He took his gun from its holster.

The hatch opened, on oiled hinges. He closed it quickly behind him. The room was lit, but dimly. A woman stood with her back to him. Still. Very still.

'Who's there?' she whispered. 'Please don't kill me. I can be of more use to you alive.'

'That depends on who I am,' said Hutch.

'Ken?' she whispered, as if surprised.

'In the very flesh. Turn around, Vanessa.'

She turned. He stared at her. He lowered the gun, slowly and cautiously.

'Who is that?' he asked. 'Where did you find him?'

'This is mine. My own child. And yours.'

'You expect me to believe that? What new lies are these?'

'No lies,' said Vanessa. 'This is your child, and no one else's. Believe me or not, as you will. Are you still going to kill me?'

'No,' said Hutch. 'Not with a baby watching.'

'Then what are you going to do?'

Hutch looked at the baby more carefully. The child was blond, and had blue eyes. It was thin, and a bit ragged, but looked to be about a year old. The last time he and Vanessa had lain together, was not quite two years ago. He hadn't seen her since. Either this was his child, or she'd cleverly found a baby of the right age to fool him with. Whatever the truth was, he couldn't kill her in front of an infant.

He looked into her eyes. They shone with honesty, but then, they always had, no matter how much she was lying to him.

'What am I going to do?' he asked himself, slowly. 'I think I'm going to take you home with me. You, and this baby.'

'Why should I go with you?' she asked.

'Because, legally you are my wife. You promised to obey me in all things. I care no more for your vows than you do, but in this, you will obey me. If you want to live, that is.'

'I want to live,' said Vanessa.

'That's what I thought,' said Hutch. 'I have a car close by. Walk ahead of me. Keep your head down. Don't make any sudden moves, or any sounds at all. If you do, I'll shoot you in the back.'

'Such a gentleman,' said Vanessa.

'I'm a gentleman, if you are a lady,' said Hutch. He moved to one side, and indicated that Vanessa should precede him up the stairs to the deck.

The fog was moving in along the Seine. Fog made distant objects seem closer than they were in reality. The White Wolf adjusted his senses accordingly. Their footsteps echoed as they made their way under the bridge to the car. He divided his senses between Vanessa, and the surrounding shadows. They were within a few feet of the car when the attack came.

It was one of the Seine rats, thought the Wolf, a little larger than usual, and armed with a gun. Hutch's gun was bigger, and his draw was faster. His aim was better, as well. The rat fell. His bullet bounced off the stone wall behind Hutch. Vanessa tried to run, but Hutch caught her, and turned her to face the wall.

'Stay there!' he commanded. 'Protect the baby.'

He stood in front of his wife, and the child, watching the shadows for more rats. He could hear a car coming toward them in the fog. More enemies, he thought. But he was wrong. A voice, a most beloved voice, called his name, and a question in Yiddish.

'Hutch? Where are you?'

Something dark slithered through the shadows to his right. The Wolf turned and shot in its direction. He heard the shadow curse, and shot towards the voice. The curses broke off, ending in a moan. He shot again, and the moans ceased.

The car door opened, cautiously. 'Hutch?' asked the beloved voice, again. If any other rats lurked in the shadows, they went on lurking. The White Wolf didn't think there were any more.

'Your friends are dead,' he told Vanessa.

'They weren't my friends,' she answered.

'Well, neither am I. The occupants of that car are my friends, and thus not your friends. You appear to be friendless.'

Vanessa said nothing. The car door opened wider, and several of the occupants emerged. Starsky, of course. The Pilot. And a woman. A woman with dark hair, and a rifle slung over her shoulder.

'Hannah,' said the White Wolf. 'It's been a long time.'

'Too long,' said Hannah. 'We've been in Paris for some time. Why didn't you come to see us?'

'For the same reason you didn't come to see us, I suppose. We didn't part on the best of terms.'

'Well, David asked for my help, and I didn't refuse. Are we friends again?'

'I never wanted to be anything else,' said the Wolf. Vanessa stirred behind him. He turned and caught her arm, and pulled her in front of him. 'This is my wife, Vanessa,' he announced. 'She tells me the baby is mine, and it's possible that's true, though unlikely.' He heard Starsky gasp, and ignored him. 'Go!' he said to Vanessa. 'Get in the car. In the back seat. Might I trouble you to ride with us, Hannah? I need someone to keep an eye on her.'

'If you like, Wolf,' said Hannah.

'I like,' the Wolf answered her.

Starsky started toward them, but stopped at the look on his face.

'No,' said the Wolf. 'Ride back with the Pilot. It's better that way.'

Even from several yards away, the Wolf could see the pain in his lover's eyes. This isn't what I want, he tried to think across the widening distance between them. None of this is what I want. Don't make it worse.

Starsky paused, and he smiled, gently. 'I'll see you back at the house then,' he said. 'Neshomeleh.'

'Yes,' the Wolf answered, and then he couldn't say anything else. He watched Starsky walk to the car, get in, and close the door. The car drove off, carrying the people he loved most on earth.

'Wolf?' asked Hannah, from their own car. 'Are you coming with us?'

'What choice do I have?' he managed to ask her.

'There are always choices. You know that. I could dispose of her for you. The baby might be yours, or not. Do you believe it is?'

'I don't know what to believe. I'm an agnostic on the subject, until I have more evidence.'

He climbed into the driver's seat, and started the engine.

'The baby is yours, Ken,' said Vanessa. 'I am your wife, and the mother of your child.'

'There is only one statement which is indisputable,' said Hutch. 'Legally, you are my wife. Therefore, you will obey me in all things. When we get to my house, do as you are told. Speak when you are spoken to. The Golem guards my house. Your friends will not be able to attack me there, or rescue you.'

'As you pointed out, I have no friends,' said Vanessa.

 

****************************

'Why did Starsky get you involved?' the Wolf asked Hannah, as he drove home. Was it still his home, he wondered.

'He was worried about you, for some reason,' said Hannah. 'He said you were in trouble. We've been in contact with the Pilot, off and on. He gave David our phone number, and David called us to ask for our help.'

'How did he know where to look for me?' he asked.

'He didn't say. I didn't ask.'

That was home, thought the Wolf. When a man loved you so much, he knew you needed help before you needed it. And he knew where you were, without looking. And he was willing to ask for help from the very people who had tried to torture and execute him. Would it have been better never to have known such love, than to have known it, and lost it?

'Are you thinking about what to do with this woman?' Hannah asked.

'No. That's not what I'm thinking about. I'm thinking about what to do with myself.'

'We're all like that at times,' said Hannah. 'But you have not such luxury. I can tell by looking at her, this woman is trouble.'

'I am not "this woman",' said Vanessa. 'I have a name.'

'So did the people you sent to concentration camps,' Hannah answered. 'They had names, but they were given numbers. Numbers tattooed on their arms.'

'I didn't do that,' said Vanessa. 'I wasn't in the SS. I wasn't to blame. Ken was.'

The car screeched to a halt. The Wolf sat for a moment, wondering why, before he realized it was because he himself had stepped on the brake.

'I'm sorry, Wolf. I'm sorry,' Hannah said over and over. 'I didn't think.'

'Not your fault,' the Wolf said, after a moment. He put the car in gear again. 'When I told you to obey me in all things, Vanessa, I meant it. Here is my first command. Keep your mouth shut, until I give you permission to speak. Do you understand me?'

'No, I do not. What century do you think this is? What sort of marriage do you think we have?'

'It is whatever century I say it is, and you will agree,' said the Wolf. He drove up before the front door of his house. The Golem stood guard before it. The Wolf got out of the car, and opened the door. He grasped Vanessa's arm, and pulled her out.

'You don't have to drag me around as if I were luggage,' she said.

'Don't I? I'm glad to hear it. Very glad to hear that you won't try to escape. Hannah? Would you do me a favour, and come inside for a moment? I'd like to talk to you.'

Hannah was eyeing the Golem, nervously.

'It won't hurt you,' said the Wolf. 'It acts on Starsky's orders.'

'The Jew,' said Vanessa.

'I beg your pardon?' asked the Wolf. 'Did you say something?'

'Well, he is. He's a Jew. He created that creature to kill Aryans, and you helped him. Why, Ken? I don't understand. Explain to me, how you could turn against our Fuehrer, and the Fatherland.'

'He's not my Fuehrer, and Germany is not my fatherland,' the Wolf said. 'It never has been. Let us not have this conversation on the doorstep. Go inside, and keep your opinions to yourself, until I request them of you.'

Vanessa climbed the steps slowly, the baby in her arms. The Wolf followed closely on her heels, Hannah at his side.

'I told you she was trouble,' said Hannah.

'I knew that already,' said the Wolf.

'Then why bring her here?' asked Hannah, reasonably.

'She's up to something, and I want to know what it is.'

'Good luck in finding out, Wolf.'

The door swung open, as Vanessa reached it. Starsky stood in the doorway. He smiled at Hutch, and Hannah, then turned to Vanessa.

'Bonsoir, Madame,' he said, in perfect French. 'Enchantee de faire votre connaissance.' He bowed with Old World courtesy. Vanessa ignored him, and swept inside. Her rudeness didn't seem to bother Starsky. 'Make yourself at home,' he added, with a grin.

'I'd really rather she didn't,' said the Wolf, from the doorway.

'A deigeh hob ich, Hutch,' said Starsky. 'Farshtaist? I am a little angry with you.'

'Only a little?' Hutch asked him, humbly.

'I am not sure how much. I will decide later. We need to convene a meeting to discuss some matters, beginning with the goyeh.'

'I know,' said Hutch. 'That's why we're here.'

'I thought you were here because it was your home,' said Starsky.

Hutch closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath, then stepped over the threshold.

'Welcome home,' said Starsky, and he stomped off after Vanessa, muttering that Hutch was an idiot.

'I agree,' said Vanessa.

'You won't find me arguing,' said the Pilot. 'You're lucky to be alive.'

'If you say so,' said Hutch.

 

**************************

 

Starsky pulled out a chair for Vanessa, and offered it to her with a polite smile. She ignored it, and looked around the kitchen with the air of a Lady Bountiful visiting one of her poorest tenants.

'Vanessa!' Hutch snapped. 'Herr Starsky is offering you a seat. Take it… Thank you. I need a drink.' He went to one of the cupboards, and found a bottle of whisky. He poured himself a stiff drink, and downed it in one gulp.

'Anyone else?' he offered, waving the bottle in the air.

'I'll have one, thank you,' said Vanessa.

'Never mind,' said Hutch. 'You're enough trouble sober.'

'I might talk more freely if I'm drunk,' she offered.

'You might,' Hutch allowed. 'But your conversation would be of little value.'

Starsky was holding Hannah's chair, and she smiled as she sat down. The men in their Resistance cell had not the time to offer her such courtesies. Hannah had never seemed to miss them.

Hutch put the whisky bottle on the table, and found glasses for everyone. He poured them all drinks, even Vanessa. 'Herr Starsky has called a meeting,' he announced. 'Where is the Doctor, by the way?'

'Vlad? In the basement doing experiments,' the Pilot noted.

'Why don't you ask him to join us?' asked Hutch.

'No need,' said a voice from the doorway. 'I have joined you already.'

'Good,' said Hutch. 'Allow me to introduce you all properly.' He did so, with great formality, using everyone's proper titles, and full names. 'And finally, my wife tells me this is my child. It was news to me, I must admit. And not exactly welcome news.'

'Hutch,' said Starsky.

Hutch turned to glare at him. 'Well, it wasn't welcome. You are all my friends. Why should I pretend any differently?'

'Ich vais. But let us keep things civil. A big tumel will only upset the baby.'

Hutch looked at the baby. It suddenly occurred to him that the child had not made a sound throughout the entire evening, and there had been plenty of cause to be upset.

'Vanessa? Is this baby well? It hasn't cried, or said one word.'

'The baby is fine,' Vanessa snapped.

'Is it a boy, or a girl?' asked Hutch.

'That's none of your business,' said Vanessa.

'None of my business? You tell me I'm its father. I think I have the right to know. Give it to me.'

'Leave her alone!' Vanessa jumped up, as if to run away, but Hutch grabbed her arm.

'Van. I'm not going to hurt her. Do you think I'd hurt a child? I won't hurt you, either. What's wrong with her? Why doesn't she cry?'

'She hasn't made a sound. Not since that bomb. It fell so close, and I think she... I didn't want you to know, until you accepted... She is your baby, Ken. I'm not lying.'

'Very well. I will believe you for now. I can't really prove otherwise. She could be my daughter.'

'She looks like you,' said Starsky. 'She has your eyes.'

Starsky didn't sound upset, or angry. He didn't sound as if he were ready to walk out the door at the revelation that Hutch might be a father. That was something, Hutch supposed.

'Let me see her properly, Van,' said Hutch. He held out his arms, and Vanessa let him take the baby. Her eyes seemed bright, and curious, but she was far too quiet for such a young child. 'Tell me what happened, Van. Tell me everything.'

Vanessa sat down, and rested her head in one hand. She looked at Hutch holding the baby. 'Everything?' she asked.

'Everything,' said Hutch. 'These are my friends. I have no real secrets from them.'

'Only from me,' said Vanessa.'

'You weren't exactly honest with me, were you?'

Vanessa sighed. 'No, I suppose I wasn't. I never wanted to marry, you know. I didn't want to be a Hausfrau, surrounded by a dozen children. Our marriage was my parents' idea.'

'And mine,' said Hutch. 'I didn't want to marry either. But, in order to rise in the SS, I had to be married.'

'And you wanted to rise in the SS?' asked Vanessa. 'Then why turn traitor?'

'We will speak of that later. Don't change the subject. We married. It was not a good marriage. We spent more time apart than we did together.'

'Then there was the time we met at your parent's country house. That was when it happened.'

'I figured that out. Why keep it a secret from me?'

'I never really trusted you,' she said. 'I always sensed there was something wrong. Something important you were hiding from me. I had decided to seek a divorce.'

'That wouldn't have been easy,' said Hutch.

'No. But then the war... Things started to go badly.'

'To say the least.'

'I was living here in Paris, with another man, when the baby was born. It was a few months after that, they invaded. We escaped in time, out into the countryside. He was killed on the retreat back to Germany. I managed to survive, and so did Sybil.'

'Sybil? Is that her name? Sybil Hutchinson?'

'I like the name Sybil,' said Vanessa.

Hutch smiled. 'I approve,' he said.

'She was doing so well, talking and starting to walk. Then the bomb.'

The Doctor leaned across the table suddenly, and snapped his fingers close to one of the baby's ears. Sybil never flinched.

'She is deaf, it seems,' said the Doctor.

'No!' cried Vanessa. 'She has trouble hearing, but I'm sure it's just temporary. She wasn't born this way, Ken. I'm sure she'll be all right. It's not genetic.' Her eyes were filled with tears, and Hutch could see they were genuine.

'I believe you, Van. But even if it were, it would make no difference. I have never been a Nazi. I don't believe in their breeding programmes. Even if she never hears again, I'll protect her.'

'Then you believe me, that's she's yours?' Vanessa asked.

Hutch looked down at the baby in his arms. Her eyes gazed into his. He touched her soft blonde hair, and her face relaxed. She smiled, slightly. It was a solemn smile. Too grave entirely for one so young.

'She is my daughter,' he agreed.

He looked across the table at Starsky. Starsky smiled at him, with much the same expression with which Sybil regarded him. There was trust, and a certain challenge. Would he fulfil his promises to them both? He would, or he'd die trying, he thought.

 

************************

 

The baby was asleep. Vanessa was fussing around the room they'd given her, changing the sheets on the bed, clucking over the dust. Hutch left her to it, and went in search of Hannah. He found her in the kitchen washing dishes.

'You don't have to do that, Hannah,' he said.

'Feh! I'd rather be doing this than killing people, if you must know. When the war is over, I'm going to bury my guns at sea, find a good man, get married and have six children.'

'Six? That many?' asked Hutch.

'I've killed at least ten times that many. I think the universe requires I restore the balance,' said Hannah.

'Thanks for agreeing to stay with us a few days,' said Hutch.

'You're going to need me, I think. Need my expertise with guns, more than my talents at dishwashing.'

'You still don't trust her?' asked Hutch.

'No,' said Hannah. 'Do you? It may be true that Sybil is your child. That doesn't mean she isn't up to something.'

'Oh, Van is up to something. I have no doubt.' He yawned. 'I should go to bed,' he noted. 'Goodnight, Hannah.'

'Good night, Wolf,' she answered.

Hutch climbed the stairs slowly. Starsky waited in their bedroom, but he wasn't looking forward to the coming interview. He was all too aware that Starsky had a number of legitimate complaints. If he thought they had been committing adultery before, what would be his opinion now, with Hutch's wife and daughter sleeping in a room below their own?

Starsky was sitting in a chair in front of the fireplace, reading. He was still dressed, but he'd changed his clothes, and was now wearing Hutch's favourite shirt and the leather jacket. The room was lit by candlelight. On the round table in the window, Starsky had a bottle of wine waiting. He looked up, as Hutch entered the room, and held out his hand.

'You look tired, neshomeleh,' he said. 'And when was the last time you ate?'

Starsky wanted to talk about food? At a time like this? 'We had breakfast,' Hutch told him.

'We had breakfast this morning,' Starsky pointed out. 'It's ten o'clock at night. Sit down. I made you a sandwich. Not the best dinner, I agree, but better than nothing.'

'Starsky, I have to tell you, I didn't know...'

'Shh. You don't have to tell me anything. What you have to do is sit there, and let me take care of you. You belong to me, not her.'

'Ah! You're jealous?'

'Jealous? No. Why should I be jealous? You're mine.'

Starsky pulled up a stool, and sat at Hutch's feet, watching him eat the sandwich. He rested his hands on Hutch's knees and studied his face.

'I can't throw them out in the street,' said Hutch.

'Of course you can't,' said Starsky.

'I don't trust Vanessa. I never have trusted her.'

'No,' said Starsky. 'But I was watching you talk to her. You do feel something for her. A sort of love, perhaps?'

'Love?' asked Hutch, with scorn. 'Nothing that elevated. She is beautiful. I was attracted to her. Sexually, I mean. But I can't be her husband. It's impossible.'

'You are her husband, nevertheless.'

Here it comes, thought Hutch. 'Yes. I know. I'm sorry, neshomeleh. Promise me something?'

'Anything,' said Starsky.

'Don't leave me entirely alone. I couldn't survive without you.'

'Hutch!'

'No, listen. I have to care for the baby. I love her, already, even if she isn't mine. She might be, but it doesn't matter. And I can't take her from Vanessa. I think she loves her too. It would be upsetting for Sybil. She's had enough pain and fear in her short life.'

'Yes. You're right. But Hutch...'

'But I need you near me. Stay near me?'

'Of course. Listen to me...'

'I won't ask for more. I know you believe it was a sin already. Before she moved in here with us.'

'Yes!' said Starsky, triumphantly. 'It's a sin. But Hutch, we're all sinners. All of us. We're human, and we fall short of the perfection of God. We should aspire to be perfect, and without sin, but sometimes we have to make choices. Difficult choices. I've made my choice. I told you, you belong to me, not her. I think that's for the best. I'm better for you. You can trust me. I won't betray you. Whatever sin we might be committing pales in comparison.'

Hutch sighed with relief. 'Do you think she'd betray me?' he asked.

'I think she already did,' said Starsky. 'That whole thing was a set-up.'

'I agree,' said Hutch. 'But why? What is it she's after?'

'Good question. But I don't think we can answer that tonight. Finish your sandwich, and come to bed.'

'I'm too tired to give you what you want,' said Hutch.

'What I want, is to take care of you. I told you that already.' Starsky got to his feet, and went to the table to pour wine. 'I want you to relax, and have a good night's sleep, with no strange dreams. I'm here. I won't let her betray you.'

'And you want to care for me?' asked Hutch. 'You don't need me to care for you?'

Starsky turned, with a glass of wine in his hand. The candlelight shone in his hair, set the leather jacket glowing. His eyes were dark and mysterious, filled with love. 'I will always need you to care for me,' he said. 'That will never change. But I don't need all of you. You can give your love and care to other people. You can expect my love and care in return. I won't eat you alive.'

'I never thought you would,' said Hutch.

'I'm strong now. You don't have to be with me every moment.'

'I will always be with you, every moment. No matter how many miles might separate us,' said Hutch. He got to his feet, and walked to Starsky's side.

Starsky handed him the wine glass, and picked up his own. They clinked glasses, and drank. 'That's the way I feel, too,' he said.

 

********************

 

They lay together, all their limbs entwined.

'I'm sorry I couldn't give you everything,' said Hutch.

'You always give me everything,' said Starsky. 'I have no complaints.'

'But I know what you like best.'

'Yes. The most beautiful thing on earth to me, is when you're inside me. But it's not the only thing. And you are always inside me. Inside me here.' He took Hutch's hand, and placed it over his heart.

'I tried to have this with Vanessa. I wanted it. It would have been good, to have a family. To be real parents for Sybil.'

'But your soul was meant to be joined to mine, whatever the rest of the world might think,' said Starsky.

'Yes,' said Hutch, sleepily. He ran his fingers through Starsky's hair, feeling the shivers of pleasure that the caress always gave him. 'I'm grateful for your forbearance,' he said. 'It's kind of you, not to be angry.'

Starsky smiled. 'I am still angry. You behaved badly. Using your masculine wiles on me. Wearing me out with your body, and then running off to meet someone else. It was a new and exciting experience for me. If I hadn't been so worried about you, I might have enjoyed it more.'

'If you like, when the war is over and you have no such fears for my safety, we can repeat the experience.'

'I'll think about it,' said Starsky. 'Go to sleep, Hutch.'

Hutch closed his eyes, and went to sleep.

Starsky lay beside him for a long time, watching him sleep. Dear God, forgive me, he thought. I am committing a grave sin, lying with a married man, but I won't give this up. I won't give him up. I won't give him to her, because she doesn't deserve him. I know some people would say it was the other way around, simply because I am a man, and she is a woman. I have a penis, and she has a vagina. That is to put a great deal of importance on a small portion of flesh.

He slipped out of bed, and opened the balcony doors. He stepped out into the moonlight. The Golem stood watch before the front doors, as always. Much help you were, he thought. You let him escape, run off to God only knew what. He might have been betrayed unto death. Why did you let him go? Why didn't you warn me?

The Golem shifted on his heavy clay feet. He stepped out into the street, as he had the other night, and turned to look up at Starsky. His eyes were blank. Blank and deep as the night sky. Starsky imagined he could see stars in them. Watch the street, he thought. Not me. The Golem resumed his post.

Starsky dressed, hurriedly. He made his way down the stairs. Everyone else seemed to be asleep, even Her. I should not resent someone so much, he thought. It isn't healthy. He doesn't love Her. He married Her before he met me. He sleeps in my bed, not hers. I am being childish. But I cannot help myself. It isn't fair that she could be married to him, when she doesn't love him, when she plots against him, and I cannot, when I adore him, and would die for him.

They had set up an office in one of the smaller rooms. It had a large desk, with many pigeon holes, and small drawers. He used his keys, opening drawer after drawer, until he found the papers the Herr Doktor Doktor had given them. There it was. The letter which had so upset his SS officer, that he had turned pale. Was it only Vanessa's name which held that power, he wondered? He began to read the letter once more. It still made little sense to him. Expeditions to Tibet. Crystal skulls. Wolfram Sievers, the Reichsgeschaftsfuhrer. Das Ahnenerbe -- The Ancestral Heritage Society. What was all that about? There were little diagrams in the margins of the letter. Several of the symbols seemed familiar. He remembered the insignia Hutch had worn on his uniform. Starsky hadn't paid much attention to such things, being more interested in what Hutch had under his uniform. He had known that Hutch hated the uniform and all it represented.

There were several drawings of the SS symbol, and now Starsky remembered that there had always been differences between Hutch's insignia, and that of most other SS officers that Starsky had met. Hutch's armband showed the letters RFSS. What did that mean? Reichsfuhrer. Reichsfuhrer SS? Hitler's personal staff? Hutch had been that close to power? Was that why he had been able to get away with so much? Had he been so trusted? Then he remembered what Hutch had told him about his wedding night. That Vanessa had bragged she had been fucked by Hitler himself. Perhaps the idea was not so wild, after all.

References to someone called Professor Walter Wust, and a lecture he had once given -- Mein Kampf as the Mirror of the Aryan Worldview. Wust claimed a "similarity between the words of the Führer and those of that other great Aryan personality, the Buddha ... the basic idea of racial identity and the sacred concept of ancestral heritage."

The Buddha and Adolf Hitler? Soul mates? Were these people mad? Perhaps Hutch could explain the concept for Starsky, since it escaped his intellectual capabilities.

He still had not found the reference to Vanessa Hutchinson. Then, it leapt out at him. Vanessa Hutchinson, said the writer. Currently living in Paris with -- Wolfram Sievers.

Wolfram Sievers the Reichsgeschaftsfuhrer? What a coincidence, thought Starsky.

 

*******************

 

Hutchinson woke before Starsky, as usual. Starsky slept, curled in his arms like a little boy. It was endearing, and reassuring. Starsky still needed him. It was an evil desire inside him, Hutchinson knew. He should be entirely happy that Starsky was doing so well. He was putting on weight. He was cheerful, and declaring his independence at every opportunity. The situation might have been far more serious.

But, if Starsky didn't need him, then who was he? What was he? Starsky kept asking him who the real Kenneth Hutchinson was. He kept reminding him he wasn't an SS officer any longer. What if that wasn't true? What if there were no real Kenneth Hutchinson? What if Kenneth Hutchinson had been an SS officer for so long, he couldn't be anything else?

He looked at his face in the bathroom mirror, as he had done the other morning with Starsky watching. Now, he was alone. There was no one who loved him, to see an idealized portrait, and reflect it back. It was just himself, alone with his reflection.

Your reflection is backwards, he thought. Left is right, and right is left. Does that mean what you see as good, is evil, and vice versa? No. That way lies madness. You cannot trust your own perceptions in this -- not now, not ever. Too much Nazi propaganda to get in the way. Too many old, mouldy bones. Too many old bloodstains, and old, dried up brain matter.

SS officers must be clean shaven at all times. He decided not to shave this morning. He wore civilian clothes, but even now he wore them as an officer would. Today, he put on a pale blue Oxford shirt he had bought while he was up at Oxford. He left the collar open, and rolled the sleeves. Gray wool trousers. Good. He looked like a University student. That was the last time he remembered understanding his own soul to any degree. He left his feet bare -- the farthest thing imaginable from the jack-booted Nazi image.

Starsky was sprawling all over the bed. One of his feet poked out from the covers. Hutch knelt at the bedside, and kissed it. It twitched, and the toes curled.

Vanessa was in the kitchen already, heating milk for Sybil. The baby looked happier than she had last night. Children adapted quickly, he thought. They looked up as he entered the kitchen, with rather different expressions on their faces. Sybil smiled. Vanessa frowned.

'Your feet are bare,' she said.

'How observant of you,' said Hutch.

'Must you make fun of everything I say?' she asked.

'Do I?'

'Yes. You do.'

'I apologize. When you say something intelligent, I will be sure to praise you for it.'

'I didn't know men valued the intelligence of women,' she said.

'I have no idea what other men value in women, but I value intelligence in anyone,' he said.

'Is that what you value in your girlfriend?'

'My girlfriend? What girlfriend?'

'That Jewess. What's her name? Anna?'

'Hannah. She's not my girlfriend, but I do value her intelligence. And her courage. And her marksmanship.'

'All very feminine qualities, I'm sure. She's still a Jew. Ken. How could you let them degrade you so? You're helping them destroy the human race. And you've dragged Viktor in with you. I thought he was above such things.'

'We're not helping anyone destroy humanity. We're helping them save it.'

'How can they do that? They're subhuman.'

'You have it the wrong way 'round, Van. It's the Third Reich that is destroying humanity. All they've done -- we've done -- is destroy, and kill and cause pain and suffering throughout this entire planet. And what good have we done to make up for it?'

'We haven't had time, Ken... No. Don't laugh. We haven't. The rest of the world didn't give us a chance.'

'Why is that, do you think?'

'The Jews, that's why. We killed a few Jews, and... Ken. Let go of my arm, you're hurting me. Don't upset the baby.'

'I'm not upsetting her, I'm instructing her. I'm sorry if I hurt your arm, Van. You shouldn't speak so lightly of killing innocent human beings if you can't bear a little pain yourself. Certainly you shouldn't speak lightly of killing innocent human beings around our daughter, even if she is still a baby. I want her to know, young as she is, that such things are wrong. God knows what she's been exposed to, living with you and Wolfram Sievers.'

'You know about that?' she asked, in surprise.

'I know about that. And I know you're up to something, as usual. This innocent, loving mother act doesn't fool me.'

'It's not an act,' said Vanessa.

'Now you are frightening me, Van. Don't lie to me so blatantly. I don't like it. What are you up to?'

'I'm trying to save my baby, that is all. That doctor -- what's his name? What did Viktor call him? Vlad? What's funny?'

'Nothing. Private joke. His name is unpronounceable. He's Romanian.'

'At least he's not a Jew.'

'No.'

'He says he might be able to help Sybil. Do you trust him?'

'Implicitly.'

'That's good, I suppose. I don't trust you, but I believe you care about Sybil.'

'I do. I'd do anything for her.'

'Good,' said Vanessa. 'That's what I hoped.' And she smiled.

 

****************************

 

'Viktor? Can you spare me a minute or two of your time?'

'For you, David? I could spare at least ten.'

'That is good, because there is something important I need to ask you about, and it might take even longer than ten minutes. We should go somewhere private, I think.'

'Somewhere private? Something important to discuss? This sounds serious.'

'It is,' said Starsky. He led the Pilot to a small courtyard garden, which the Witch Doctor had christened the Conservatory, and was planting with spring bulbs he had found in one of the basement storerooms. The others had all told him they were dead, but he ignored their criticisms of his gardening techniques, and spoke glowingly of the tulips that would soon be poking their little heads above the soil. Starsky hoped he was right.

'What is this matter which is so important, Herr Starsky? I hope the Wolf will not be after my hide for this private interview.'

Starsky laughed. 'Hutch isn't the jealous type, as you very well know,' he said.

'But you are,' said the Pilot.

'If you mean I am jealous of Vanessa, then yes, I am. But not precisely for the reasons some people might suppose. That is not what I wanted to discuss with you. Hutch was in the SS.'

'I know. That is an indisputable truth. But you have known that from the first. Why discuss it now?'

'I have known from the first, yes. Hutch offered to tell me the things he had done. He said he was not worthy of me, which is nonsense. I said I didn't need to know the details for myself, but I would listen, if he needed to talk about them. He mentioned a few things to me, but mostly, we spent our time together engaged in other sorts of discussions.'

'Of course,' said the Pilot, and he smiled.

'Hutch says many strange things. One of them, is that I saved his soul. He really believes that, and I want to come up to his expectations.'

'I'm sure you do,' said the Pilot. 'Judging by his heavy-lidded eyes every morning. To say nothing of the...'

'Stop that! I am speaking of spiritual expectations.'

'Sex can be spiritual.'

'Yes, it can. The merging of two souls so they are one soul in two bodies. And then there is the pain of discovery, that you still don't understand each other entirely. I want to understand Hutch, and I think I need to know what he has lived through. He knows something about what I have lived through, but so much of his life is a mystery to me. I think he doesn't want me to know about it. But how can I save his soul, if I don't know what I'm saving it from?'

'I will tell you what I know, but it isn't that much. I wasn't in the SS. I am Luftwaffe. A fighter pilot. Hutch was pretty closemouthed with me about the SS, too.'

'The letter. Remember? The letter I grabbed out of his hand. It spoke of Vanessa. And there were other things I didn't understand. Something about Das Ahnenerbe. Do you know what that is?'

'It's a branch of the SS. That's about all I know. You'd have to ask Hutch, if you want to learn more.'

'I don't want to trouble him. He has enough to worry about, right now.'

'It's no trouble, neshomeleh,' said Hutch. It seemed he had crept up behind them silently, while they spoke.

Starsky turned to face him. He didn't look angry, but Starsky apologized anyway. 'I didn't mean to go behind your back, Hutch. Truly I didn't want to ask you about the SS. Why should you want to talk about it?'

'I don't,' said Hutch. 'But if you need to know about it, I will. Come with me. Both of you.'

They followed him back into the house. Starsky saw that Hutch's feet were bare, which explained why he had been able to get so close without them noticing his approach. Hutch led the down to the basement, into the Doctor's mysterious lair. The Doctor poked his head out of his laboratory to observe the invasion.

'What are you up to?' he asked, crossly. The Doctor was usually cross in the morning.

'I'm showing them my secret room,' said Hutch. 'Want to come along?'

'Why not?' said the Doctor.

'Make sure we aren't being watched, will you?' asked Hutch.

The Doctor kept guard, and Hutch pressed a few places in the stone wall. 'Vlad discovered this room almost immediately,' he said. 'It seems to be a Transylvanian characteristic -- the immediate recognition of secret rooms in basements.'

'I figured if a Nazi lived here, he had a secret room, that was all. The rest was easy,' said the Doctor.

A door in the wall slid open, and Hutch waved them inside. 'I have my uniform here, and all my other Nazi paraphernalia,' he told them. 'But that's not why I have this secret room. I kept many notes about Das Ahnenerbe, and the men who run it, over the years. I stole papers, a few at a time. Took photographs. Kept letters sent to me from many people. I'm starting to gather them together in one place. One day, I'm going to let the world see them. I need a place to keep them safe, in the meantime.'

He opened a chest, and drew out his SS uniform. Fastened to the belt, was his ceremonial dagger. 'My Honour Is My Loyalty,' he read from the blade. 'Yes, but loyalty to whom? When I made that vow, I made it to someone other than Hitler. To God. To the lover I dreamt waited for me. To all the thousands of people I knew the SS would sentence to death. I hoped to save just one of them.'

'We the Jews believe that if a person saves just one other human being, he saves the world,' said Starsky. 'You saved me, so you have saved the world.'

'That is a beautiful belief, but a bit naive,' said Hutch. 'I told you once I had to do terrible things to maintain my cover. Whatever my reasons were, I still did those things. Do you really want to know about them?'

'I don't know if I need all the details,' said Starsky. 'But I want to know what you were. The outlines of what you did.'

Hutch sighed. 'Very well. I was in the Hitler Youth, of course. My parents insisted. Then I went up to Oxford, and I read Anthropology. The study of the human race. When I came down from Oxford, they insisted I come home. I thought of refusing. But I realized something, something most people in the world, even in Germany, seemed bent on denying. Hitler meant to take over the world, and put the Aryan race in charge. He was going to carry out his plans to commit genocide against the Jews, the Gypsies, and other subhumans, and enslave those left alive. Anyone who tried to tell the rest of the world this, was ignored. Winston Churchill was ignored. How could I hope to do better at warning the human race I had spent three years studying? I spoke to Churchill about my concerns. He suggested I return to Germany, and gather data. He told me he couldn't find a better operative, if he searched for years. I went home, and joined the SS. Because I had a degree from Oxford in Ethnography, Himmler put me in Das Ahnenerbe. The Ancestral Heritage Society. It sounds so harmless, put that way, does it not?'

'What does Das Ahnenerbe do, exactly?' asked Starsky.

'Everything the SS could dream up in its most fevered hive mind, and then some,' said Hutch. 'They try to prove the inferiority of other races. They perform scientific experiments upon people. I won't describe those experiments, since they aren't fit to be described. But it was a useful branch of the SS, for me. It gave me the freedom to move around from camp to camp, ostensibly studying the effects of incarceration and starvation on inferior specimens of humanity. My authority as a member of such an elite corps, was almost unquestioned.'

'How would the rest of this elite corps feel about your treachery?' asked Starsky.

'What the Hell do I care how they feel?' asked Hutch. 'Their feelings mean nothing to me.'

'I care,' said Starsky. 'I care that they might be plotting to put their feelings into action.'

 

*************************

 

Starsky watched Hutch's face as he talked. He listened to Hutch's tone of voice. Hutch showed no emotion on the surface, but Starsky knew him well. Hutch had needed this. He had needed to confess. He might not be a practising Roman Catholic any longer, but the need to confess was still there. That, and the need for absolution. Both concepts were foreign to Starsky's religion, but he was capable of understanding Hutch's point of view.

Viktor and the Doctor asked matter-of-fact questions. Hutch answered them. Starsky ventured a question of his own.

'Who was the first man you killed?' he asked. 'I don't mean in war, or in self defence.'

'War? What war? I was never part of the Waffen-SS. I had military training in the Hitler Youth, and more later on, when I joined the SS. Much more. Some of us in Das Ahnenerbe were armed, and were ready to fight when needed. But for the most part, we provided the research, that supported the theories of Hitler and Himmler. In my opinion, that role was the more evil one. Himmler ordered the killings. The mass slaughters, and the death camps. He didn't take part in the killings himself. He couldn't even watch from the sidelines, and he convinced himself that kept him pure. I never believed that. I knew it wouldn't keep me pure. I watched. I killed more than a few people with my own hands, to prove my loyalty. The first man I killed? He wasn't a Jew. He was a good Aryan. A traitor, like myself, only he fought openly against the Nazis. They brought him in for the new recruits in the SS to practice on. I was one of those recruits. I did my bit. I'll never forget his eyes, or his screams. Or his courage. I often wondered if I would die so bravely.'

'I know you would,' said Starsky.

'Why are you so sure?'

'You are the bravest person I've ever known.'

Hutch laughed. 'That is your loving heart speaking, not your head.'

'Yes, it is my heart speaking, and I love you, so my heart speaks the truth,' Starsky answered. 'Why would you think otherwise? Don't you trust my love?'

'I trust every inch of you. But I think you're turning a blind eye to the evil I've done... yes, evil. No matter how you try to ignore it, and whatever my reasons for what I did, I did evil things.'

'Yes,' said Starsky. 'I know. You did evil things. But that doesn't make you evil. You did them because you had to. You did them to protect your cover, so that you could go on fighting evil.'

'Sometimes I wonder, if what I did was right. Who was I, to decide I could do evil, and not be affected by it? Who was I, to decide that the lives of the people I killed could be discarded because I had a greater purpose. Then, I think that yes, I might have protected myself from evil, kept myself pure and innocent -- at the cost of many more lives, than those of the people I killed. But then I remember that Himmler and many other Nazis justified what they did, in exactly the same way. They believe that they were doing evil for good purposes. So, how am I better than they are?'

'Because they were lying to themselves, and you are not,' said Starsky. 'Because you truly did good through evil. But mostly, because I say you're better than they are. I've met many real Nazis. They made my skin crawl. I wanted only to be as far from them as possible. You... I want to take you away, to where there is only peace and love, and show you your true soul.'

'I'm in that place already,' said Hutch. He settled into Starsky's waiting arms, and closed his eyes.

'How many nights, out in the forest, you held me in your arms like this. Pressed me up against a tree, or a rock, to keep my back warm, and kept my front warm with your own body. Protected me against all the fears that the Nazis would capture me, and take me back to the camp. You said we would die together, before that would happen. You promised me, and I believed you.'

'I meant what I said,' Hutch whispered.

'I mean what I say,' Starsky answered. 'If you are evil, then so am I, because I love you. We will be evil together.'

'You two are very entertaining,' the Doctor commented. 'Better than most plays I've seen.'

***********************

 

'Put your shoes on before we go out,' Starsky ordered. 'I don't want everyone in the world seeing your beautiful naked feet. The sight of your toes reminds me of things I've done with them. To them.'

Hutch turned and gave him a dirty look. But his lips twitched. 'Ja, Mein Führer!' he said.

'Just don't give me the Nazi salute,' said Starsky.

Hutch raised his middle finger instead, and stomped up the stairs to find his shoes.

Starsky wandered around the house, until he found Vanessa. She was in the sitting room, reading to Sybil from a children's book of fairy tales she'd found somewhere. The baby seemed to trust her, thought Starsky. He wondered how she would feel when her mother betrayed her. If she betrayed her, he amended. I should not judge her so harshly. Hutch himself has killed people. Innocent people. I doubt this woman has actually killed anyone in her life, with her own hands. She is Hutch's wife. I have stolen her husband from her, thus I am the one who has done her harm. What right do I have to mistrust her so? And yet, I do. She is here for a reason, and not only the obvious one of needing shelter.

Vanessa looked up as he entered the room. She started to put the book away and get to her feet, but Starsky waved her to sit down, and continue.

'Grimm's Fairy Tales,' he read off the book cover. 'Very educational.'

Vanessa sniffed, and decided to ignore him. She went back to reading. 'Then the bird flew away to a shoemaker, and lighted on his roof and sang - my mother she killed me, my father he ate me, my sister, little Marlinchen, gathered together all my bones, tied them in a silken handkerchief, laid them beneath the juniper tree, kywitt, kywitt, what a beautiful bird am I.'

'The Juniper Tree,' Starsky noted. 'I remember reading that, when I was a child.'

Vanessa looked up, as if in surprise, though what should surprise her, Starsky could not say. Was it that he'd once been a child? That he knew how to read? That Jews were interested in more than making money, to the extent that they would read fairy tales? Or merely that he was continuing to speak to her, when she'd declared her lack of interest in his conversation?

'I remember the ending,' he went on, undeterred.

Vanessa looked back down at the book, and read on until the end.

'Then she was light-hearted and joyous, and she put on the new red  
shoes, and danced and leaped into the house. "Ah," said she, "I  
was so sad when I went out and now I am so light-hearted, that  
is a splendid bird, he has given me a pair of red shoes." "Well,"  
said the woman, and sprang to her feet and her hair stood up  
like flames of fire, "I feel as if the world were coming to an end.  
I too, will go out and see if my heart feels lighter." And as  
she went out at the door, crash. The bird threw down the millstone  
on her head, and she was entirely crushed by it.

The father and Marlinchen heard what had happened and went out, and smoke,  
flames, and fire were rising from the place, and when that was  
over, there stood the little brother, and he took his father and  
Marlinchen by the hand, and all three were right glad, and they  
went into the house to dinner, and ate.'

'As I said, very educational,' Starsky repeated. 'That is how treachery should be rewarded.'

'I am interested that you share my opinion about treachery, Herr Starsky.' She spat his name, as if it had a bad taste.

'Do I?' asked Starsky. 'I suppose I might, but it depends on what you mean by treachery, Frau Hutchinson.'

'I see you Jews as treacherous, for a start,' she answered.

'You are mistaken. We Jews have sent no one to concentration camps.'

'The Jew is the cause and the beneficiary of our slavery. Here is the real reason for the loss of the world war.'

'Ah! Goebbels. The Minister for Propaganda and Enlightenment. And you have memorized his works.'

'Why are you here, Herr Starsky?'

'My mother and father got married, and....'

'I meant here, in this room. Why are you speaking to me? What possible purpose could you have in doing so?'

'Curiosity, merely. I mean you no harm, Frau Hutchinson.'

'But you have already done me harm, Herr Starsky. You have stolen my husband from me. He trusts you, not me. He deserted me, when I was pregnant with our child, and went away to help the Jews, instead of his own race.'

'I went away to help the human race, Vanessa,' said Hutch from the doorway. 'That is the only race I wish to belong to. Are you ready, Starsky? We should be off.'

'I'm ready, I was only waiting for you,' said Starsky, with a pointed look at Hutch's feet, now decently clad. Hutch smiled.

'Where are you going?' asked Vanessa.

'That is none of your business,' said Hutch.

'No, it is not. I am only a woman, and not entitled to know the business of the menfolk.'

'Oh, Vanessa, spare us,' said Hutch. 'I'll be home in a few hours. Do whatever you please until then.'

Starsky followed him to the front door. 'Did our conversation upset you?' he asked, as they started down the street, the Gollum following. 'I didn't intend to begin such a conversation. It just seemed to develop.'

Hutch turned with a smile. 'That is a typical course of events around Vanessa,' he said. 'Things just seem to develop. Watch yourself.'

'Watch myself? In what way, Hutch? I'm not really interested in women.'

'Neither was I, Starsky,' said Hutch.

'And I doubt she's interested in me. I'm a Jew. Wouldn't that be a crime, in her mind?'

'Who knows what's in her mind,' Hutch answered.

 

************************

 

The English colonel was charming, thought Starsky. Perhaps a bit too charming, when it came to Hutch.

In his SS officer guise, Hutch was beautiful and brutal. He kept people at a distance, for the most part. Starsky had seen through the mask, to the lonely man beneath, and Hutch was opening up, like a flower in the sunshine. Now, the bees would start buzzing around, and Starsky would have to deal with them. A fly swatter, he thought. Or a Tommy gun.

Colonel Francis Howard said, charmingly. 'I have messages from old friends.' He spoke German well, and Starsky could take part in the conversation. So far, he had mostly listened.

'Oh, yes?' asked Hutch. 'Which old friends?'

How old, and how friendly, Starsky wondered. Oy vey! I am becoming jealous, and that is not good.

'Our great and glorious leader sends his regards,' said Colonel Howard.

'Churchill?'

'Who else? He tells me you are one of his best operatives. That explains a lot.'

'A lot of what?' asked Hutch, darkly.

The Colonel raised an enquiring eyebrow.

'Never mind,' said Hutch. 'Who else remembers me with fondness?'

'Alan Turing, for one.'

'Turing? What's he been up to lately?' Hutch was smiling. Clearly he remembered this Alan Turing with fondness.

'He's in London, working on his Turing Machine,' the Colonel told him. 'I don't understand what it does, but what it does it does splendidly. Or so I'm told.'

'Something about mathematics. Computing. Computing what, I asked him. He gave me a long, involved explanation, of which I understood one word in ten. But he's a good runner. Olympic class, did you know that?'

'Yes. He tires me out just watching him.'

'Tell him he should move to France. Join Starsky and me, and our friends. Turing is a genius, and the English don't appreciate their geniuses. Look at how they treated Oscar Wilde.'

'Precisely. But he lives in a different world than the rest of us poor mortals. I don't think he considers himself above such mundane concerns. It is simply that such mundane concerns do not occur to him.'

'Well, they should. But his mind doesn't work that way. He needs a lover who can take care of mundane concerns for him. That is what lovers are for. Tell him to come to France, and I will find him a lover.'

Colonel Howard laughed. 'Is that what lovers are for?' he asked. 'No wonder I've been getting it all wrong. I've been looking for the wrong things in a lover.'

They were walking in the Champs Elysee. It was a sunny day, and the war was going well. The Americans were still camped out all over Paris, and the Parisians were becoming more annoyed with every passing hour. The Germans were gone. The Parisians wanted life to return to normal.

'I don't think Turing would listen to me, but he might listen to you,' Colonel Howard added.

Would he indeed, thought Starsky.

'My friends and I are an Independent Power, with our own headquarters and so forth,' said Hutch. 'We could use a mathematical genius, like Turing. He could argue philosophy with our Witch Doctor.'

'You have a Witch Doctor?' asked Howard.

'He's Romanian,' Starsky put in, as if that explained everything.

'A Romanian Witch Doctor? Now I've seen everything.'

'That surprises you, and the Golem doesn't?'

'Ah, but I've known about the Golem for a year,' said the Colonel. 'He's old news.'

'I'll be sure to tell him that,' said Starsky, with a bit of a smirk.

The Colonel eyed the Golem nervously. 'I didn't mean that in a bad way,' he explained. 'I don't want to hurt his feelings. I simply meant....'

'Don't worry,' said Starsky. 'The Golem has no feelings.' Certainly the creature was expressionless, and appeared unemotional at the moment.

The Golem was invincible. The Golem was immortal. It was best to keep the illusion that the Golem had no heart, and was merely a inanimate object, which obeyed orders, and had no agenda of its own. As far as Starsky knew, only he suspected otherwise. Only he had seen the Golem's eyes in the moonlight. Only he had witnessed the first hesitant stirrings of its soul.

 

***********************

 

The Champs Elysee was crowded. Parisians. Americans. Parisians out for a stroll. Americans soldiers looking for Parisians out for a stroll.

The Parisians took the Golem for granted. The Golem had fought for the liberation of Paris, toward the end. His efforts had been the deciding factor. Many American soldiers were new in Paris. They stared, or backed away nervously.

A man rounded a corner too quickly, and bumped into Starsky. Hutch snarled a warning. The man looked up. His eyes were blue and startled. He caught sight of the Golem, and backed up a little. Starsky caught sight of his face, and stopped dead in the street.

'What's wrong, neshomeleh?' asked Hutch. 'He didn't hurt you, did he?'

Starsky said, 'No. Not this afternoon.'

'What do you mean? You know this man?'

'Yes,' said Starsky. 'He's the man who gave me my tattoo.'

'Are you sure?' asked Hutch.

'I'm sure,' said Starsky. 'I will never forget a moment of that day, as long as I live.'

The man had been backing up slowly. At the look on Hutch's face, he turned and ran. Hutch chased after him. Starsky ran after Hutch. The Golem lumbered after Starsky, and the English Colonel brought up the rear. The parade didn't last long. Hutch caught his prey, and threw him to the ground. A crowd gathered as the man cowered in the dusty street.

'What have I done?' he whined.

'Branded people like cattle,' was Hutch's answer. 'You know that. You know what you are. That's why you ran from me, Nazi.'

'I'm not. I'm not. I'm no Nazi. Am I to be condemned without a trial?'

'A trial? You want a trial?' Hutch laughed.

'It's my right,' said the man.

'You have rights, do you? Rights you didn't give to Starsky, and his family?'

'I don't know what you're talking about. I've never met this man in my life. I've never branded him, or anyone. I'm no Nazi.'

'Then why do you have this tattoo, yourself?' asked Hutch. He hauled the man to his feet, and pulled back the sleeve of his coat. There on his arm, was a tattoo. "AB", it read.

'Your blood group, SS man,' said Hutch. 'How convenient. We have friends with that blood group. Jewish friends. We might keep you alive, until they need blood transfusions, and then we can bleed you dry. In the meantime, are you right handed, or left handed?'

'What does that matter?' the man asked.

'Starsky? You say you remembered everything about that day. What hand did he use to tattoo you?'

'His right hand, Hutch,' Starsky answered quietly.

Hutch threw the Nazi back down on the street, and ground his heel into the man's right hand. 'That will do for now. And you will have your trial.' He added, 'Eventually.'

'Vigilante justice?' asked Colonel Howard.

Hutch smiled. 'Yes. I am a vigilante. But as you can see, I am not out of control. We don't let the Golem rip people into shreds and eat them, whatever the rumours might say. Human flesh has a horrible smell, after a time, and the Golem doesn't eat. I killed the Nazi guards of the concentration camps. They were armed men, and capable of defending themselves. It was war, and I was freeing their prisoners. I have no wish to sink as low as this swine.' He stared down at the man at his feet. 'No. I take that back. To call people like you swine, is an insult to swine.'

'You're one to talk,' the man snarled, suddenly. 'You were a Nazi yourself. You turned traitor to your own kind. And you call me swine? What should I call you?'

'Your master,' said Hutch. 'I was never a Nazi. Everyone should know that by now. I was always a traitor to the Nazis. I passed on information to the Allies. I gathered information about your crimes, and I will make it known to the world. As I said, there will be trials, and I will give evidence.'

Starsky had been watching the crowds. Most people appeared sympathetic towards Hutch, but a few looked disgusted at the sight of the man on the pavement. Starsky wasn't sure what aroused their disgust. The man himself, or Hutch's treatment of him? He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. He was sure he wanted to get Hutch away from this crowd, and away from Hutch's own violence. He grabbed Hutch's arm to pull him back.

One of the men in the crowd stepped forward, and took a gun from his pocket. He shot at Hutch, but Starsky had pulled him out of the line of fire just in time. Before the man could aim again, the Golem stepped in front, and took the gun from his hand. He threw it down and stepped on it. The man tried to run, but the crowd blocked his path.

'That was stupid,' Starsky commented. 'Now we have two prisoners to deal with.'

'Is this a typical day for you?' asked Colonel Howard.

'Hutch can't go out of doors, without attracting trouble,' said Starsky.

 

**********************

 

'You have a lot of bloody nerve,' said Colonel Howard. 'But I suppose you know that.'

'How could I not know that?' Hutchinson asked. 'And why are you surprised? How else could I have betrayed the Nazis, right under their noses? Nerve is the one thing I have in abundance.'

'Chutzpah,' Starsky corrected. 'And you have many things in abundance, neshomeleh.'

'You are going to need all the chutzpah you can gather, both of you, once the authorities learn of your actions,' Howard told them. 'To say nothing of the Allied armies. Taking prisoners? Holding them in your own jail cells, instead of turning them over to the police? What next?'

'What next?' asked Hutchinson. 'I intend to put them on trial for their crimes, that's what next.... Well, why not? They hurt Starsky. I mean to make them pay.'

'One of them shot at you,' Starsky pointed out.

'I've been shot at before. It's nothing. But they did this to you.' Hutch took Starsky's arm, gently, and pulled back his sleeve. He bent and kissed the tattooed number. 'They labelled you, as if you were merchandise. One car off the assembly line. One piece of furniture. One Jew.'

'That is how I felt at the time, but I survived. I found my lover again, and we're together and happy. I am loved and cared for. The whole world knows what they have done, and reviles them. That is my concept of justice.'

Hutch took his hand, and held it tenderly. 'I understand that concept, in a way,' he said. 'But something inside me cries out it's not enough. The world doesn't know enough of what they did. The world doesn't revile them enough. If we don't make sure it knows the whole story, the details may be forgotten. Some day, people will be saying Hitler wasn't so bad, after all. They'll be saying the camps never existed. They'll claim it was all a conspiracy by the Jews.'

'Are you sure you aren't Jewish yourself?' asked Howard.

Starsky laughed. 'That's what I keep asking him,' he said. 'He's so passionate about Jewish traditions, as if they were his own.'

'Why is that so funny?' asked Hutchinson.

'Oh, I don't think it's funny, not in the way you seem to mean,' said Howard. 'But you remind me of some of the Jews I've been talking to, lately. They're pressing for a big trial of Nazis for their war crimes. Crimes against humanity.'

'Yes. Crimes against the Jews. But they'll say nothing about the homosexuals they sent to the camps,' Starsky pointed out. 'I doubt they will ever be mentioned.'

'I've heard that after they were released from the camps, some of them were sent back to prison for being queer,' said Colonel Howard.

'That's one reason we came to France after we liberated the camps,' Hutchinson explained.

'However did you manage, being in the SS?' asked the Colonel. 'I've heard stories about the duties that SS officers....'

'Stories I do not intend to hash over with you tonight.'

'Of course not. I should be getting back to the base, myself. Don't be surprised if you have to repel boarders, once the news of your actions in the streets of Paris reach the authorities, though. You have my number. Give me a call, and I'll do what I can to help.'

'Thank you,' said Hutchinson. 'Could you see the Colonel to the door, Starsky? I want to check on Sybil.'

'Of course, Hutch,' said Starsky.

'Sybil?' asked the Colonel.

'My daughter,' Hutchinson explained. 'I just learned of her existence the other day.'

'Ah. A new father. How did that happen?'

'The usual way,' said Hutch, haughtily. He stalked off toward Sybil's nursery.

'He's rather....' said Colonel Howard, clearly trying to find the right words.

'Arrogant? Imperious? Masterful?' Starsky suggested. 'He's all those things and more.'

'You seem pleased. I'm not sure I could live with it, myself.'

'I think you want a wife then, not a husband,' said Starsky.

Colonel Howard laughed. 'Oh, I want a husband. Just a more amenable husband. One who follows my lead. Otherwise, we should be fighting all the time.'

Starsky smiled. He could imagine that he and Hutch would have more than a few fights, in the future. He was looking forward to them.

He led the English colonel to the house door. The Golem was standing guard as usual. He seemed strangely restless, to Starsky. Colonel Howard didn't notice, or paid no attention if he did. He shook Starsky's hand, and said, 'Auf Wiedersehen.'

'Auf Wiedersehen,' said Starsky.

The English colonel turned to go. Starsky never knew what it was that alerted him. It was not in the nature of snipers to give alerts. Perhaps he had developed a sixth sense. Or a seventh -- the ability to sense the presence of evil. For whatever reason, Starsky suddenly flung the colonel to the ground, and threw himself on top. Just in time. The bullets ricocheting off the doorposts told him that. So did the fiery trail of the bullet that hit his shoulder, and travelled along his back several inches.

'I said I wanted a husband,' the colonel noted. 'Not a rapist.'

'Shut up,' snarled Starsky. 'Hutch!' he called. 'Stay out of the doorway, but get us out of here.'

'How's he supposed to do that?' asked Howard.

'I don't know,' said Starsky. 'But if anyone can, Hutch can.'

The Golem was now standing over them. Someone -- probably the Pilot -- was returning fire with their own high-powered rifle. Starsky felt a tug on his leg. He dared to turn his head to look. It was Hutch, of course, lying flat on the doorstep, attempting to pull him inside. A bullet hit the doorstep, inches from his face. Hutch swore, in several languages, and screamed at the Pilot to kill the mother fucking son of a pig and a whore. The Pilot fired off another round.

Hutch slid forward, until he could grab Starsky's arm, instead of his leg. 'Come on,' he said. 'If we move fast enough, maybe they won't hit us. On the count of three. One. Two....' He scrambled to his feet, dragging Starsky up with him. The colonel followed. They staggered inside, and slammed the door closed. There was dead silence. No more bullets, from any direction. It seemed the Pilot had made his point.

Starsky stood swaying on his feet.

'You're hit,' Hutch said.

'I know. I'm fine,' Starsky told him.

'You're bleeding. You're losing blood. You're not fine.'

'It's just a graze. Hutch, what was that about? We've been here several days. It's been weeks since anyone dared to attack us, even from a distance. Then, in one day, someone tries to kill you, and now, me.'

'You're bleeding,' said Hutch, again. 'When I saw you fall, I thought....'

'I'm not dead. I'm fine. Stop rambling, Hutch. Something's going on. Something more important than a bullet graze.'

'What could be more important than someone trying to kill you?'

Starsky thought for a moment. 'It drew your attention to the front of the house,' he said. 'What's going on at the back?'

'We have guards at the back of the house. They would have sounded an alarm, wouldn't they? Hannah?' Hutch called.

'I'm here, Wolf. Are you all alive?'

'I'm alive. Starsky's bleeding. Where's the Doctor?'

'Down in his laboratory, of course.'

'Ignoring everything going on up here, as usual. Get him, would you?'

'Hutch? Are you listening to me?' asked Starsky. 'Good. Then pay attention. Check the back of the house. Humour me.'

'I'll check in a minute. You sit down. Now!'

'I'll sit down in a minute. You check. Now!'

Their eyes met. Starsky held his gaze. 'Now, Hutch.'

Hutch sighed. 'Stubborn bastard,' he said. He stormed through the house, toward the back, passing Sybil's nursery. Only a few minutes ago, he'd watched her sleeping in her cradle -- a wooden crate they'd found in the basement. Vanessa had decorated it with fabric from an old pink and white curtain. He'd never seen Van's face look so peaceful.

'Van! Van? Are you well?'

No answer. The back door was open. Perhaps Hannah had opened it to keep guard when the shooting started. But where were the regular guards?

'Horst? Vie geht es dir? Capucine? Ca va?'

No answer.

'Verdammt noch mal!'

Wait. There was an answer. A low moan. His name.

'Ken?'

Only Vanessa called him that. What trick was this? He drew his Magnum, and studied the dark grounds. After a few seconds, his eyes were used to the lack of light. He could see someone lying on the ground, near the back wall. Silver glinted in the moonlight. Silver protruding from the person's body.

'Ken?'

He approached cautiously, expecting to be attacked at any moment. No attack came. Vanessa called to him a third time. He fell to his knees beside her. The silvery glint was a dagger, stuck deep in her abdomen.

'Doctor!' he called. 'The back garden. Hurry!'

'Too late,' Van whispered. 'Listen, Ken.'

'I'm listening. What happened? Why did you leave the house? You were safe inside.'

'Had to,' she went on. 'Yours, Ken. Your babies. Go after them. Sorry. I tried. They broke... promise.'

'Babies, Van? What do you mean?'

'Two babies.' Her voice was failing. 'Yours. Ours. I swear. He took the boy.'

'Who did?'

'Your father. Said he'd kill Sybil. Born deaf… Lied to you, about that… I ran away, to find you. Hoped -- knew you weren't like him. Knew it. Promise me.'

'I promise, Van. I'll find him.'

'Her too. Took Sybil.'

'Sybil? She's asleep in her cradle.'

'No. Made me bring her out. He said… Kill the boy, if I didn't… Wants you… Go to him. He'll let the babies live.'

Hutch doubted that. But he held his dying wife's hands, and made the promise she needed.

'I'll go to him. I'll save our babies, Vanessa.'

'Thank you,' she whispered, and her eyes grew dull and dark, as she drew her last breath.

 

**************************

'I found Horst and Capucine,' said the Pilot.

'Oh, yes?' said Hutch dully.

'Their throats were cut from here to here.' The Pilot demonstrated.

'Thank you, Viktor. I know how throats are cut.'

'Good. So, why are you looking guilty? You didn't cut their throats yourself.'

'No? If it hadn't been for my self righteousness, three people would still be alive, and Sybil would be sleeping safely in her own bed, with her mother watching over her.'

'How did you decide all that?' Starsky asked him.

Hutch took Starsky's hands in his, as he had held Vanessa's through her last moments of life. 'Neshomeleh,' he said. 'I hate prejudice, and bigotry. And yet, I allowed myself to judge Vanessa. If I hadn't -- if I'd tried to persuade her to talk to me, instead of lecturing her -- she might have told me the truth. Instead...'

'Instead, you only did what most men would have done, Wolf,' said Hannah. 'What most people would have done. I didn't like Vanessa myself. Her attitude towards us didn't help. But I didn't try to see past her mask, either.'

'No. But she was my wife, as Starsky pointed out, whether I wished it or not. I did promise to love her, and care for her, and I didn't fulfil my duties as a husband. I didn't protect her, and now she's dead. But our children are alive. I mean to keep them that way.'

This was interesting, thought Starsky. Almost from the moment they had met, that fierce protectivenes had been Starsky's alone. Now, he could stand back and watch it in operation. Or -- he could participate.

'I sensed that Frau Hutchinson was hiding something,' said Starsky. 'I could tell she was worried about something. But I thought she was plotting against you. I judged her, because I couldn't see past my jealousy.'

'Jealousy?' asked Hutch, astonished. 'What do you have to be jealous about?'

'I was jealous that she could marry you. That she could give you children. I can't do either of those things.'

'No. You can't. But you love me, and she couldn't. I think we could have lived together for fifty years as husband and wife, and still there would have been no love between us. We were too different. Too far apart. Opposing principles.'

'Perhaps,' said Starsky. 'It doesn't erase the fact that you and Frau Hutchinson made babies together, and that you and I can't do that. But I can help you rescue your babies. How are we going to rescue your babies, Hutch? And why are we sitting here talking, instead?'

'This is an SS ceremonial dagger, and the symbols carved on it are specifically those of the Ahnenerbe,' said Hutch, handing him the dagger that had killed Vanessa. 'It's a message to me. The Ahnenerbe has executed my wife. They have my children. They expect me to come after them, which is why I haven't done so. Yet. There's only one place they can be -- the Fortress of Montsegur. The Ahnenerbe holds that place as sacred. It's likely they're holed up there, either in the fortress itself, or in the caves.'

'Caves?' asked Colonel Howard.

'Montsegur is in the Lasset Valley. There are many deep caves and underground rivers.'

'The painted caves,' the Doctor spoke up.

'Yes,' Hutch agreed, with an expression of surprise. 'The walls of many of the caves are painted.'

'Why does the Ahnenerbe see them as sacred?' asked Howard. 'Do they love art so much?'

'No. They believe the Holy Grail is buried there. Somewhere.'

'Is it?' asked Starsky.

'How would I know,' said Hutch. 'I've never believed in the existence of the Holy Grail, and I certainly haven't wasted any time looking for it. But I did discover something interesting in those caves.'

Starsky smiled. 'A secret passage?' he asked.

'How did you guess?' asked Hutch in his turn.

'And you have a plan.' Starsky stated.

'I have a plan,' Hutch agreed. 'I also have two hostages.'

 

**************************

 

The cellar room Hutchinson had locked the prisoners into was suitably dark and damp. The Pilot carried a lantern, and set it down in the hallway, while he stood guard. Hutchinson unlocked the door, and flung it wide open. The light from the lantern was enough to show that their prisoners were still safely chained to the wall.

'Why are you here?' asked Hutchinson.

The prisoners were silent.

'When I ask you a question, I demand an answer,' said Hutchinson.

'I'd answer your question if I understood it,' said the man who had attempted to shoot him.

'You understand me,' Hutchinson replied. 'Now, answer me.'

'Very well, Herr Hutchinson. I'm here because I attempted to assassinate a traitor, but failed.'

'Who sent you?' Hutchinson asked.

'No one. I was acting on my own.'

'Don't insult my intelligence,' said Hutchinson. 'Men like you never act on your own. They follow orders. Ergo, you were following orders. Who gave the orders?'

'Mein Fuehrer,' said the assassin.

'Of course he did,' said Hutchinson. 'But not in person. Who passed the orders on? The chain of command is rather, shall we say, in disarray.'

'Hail the Fatherland,' said the assassin.

'The Fatherland is doomed. As it should be. What good father behaves as Hitler has done? Leading his children into evil. Drawing down the wrath of the world upon their heads. We are all his victims. But some of us are more his victims than others. Why should you be the only one to suffer at my hands? Why should the one who passed on the orders to you escape my punishment? Tell me who he was, and you can watch me kill him, before I get around to killing you.'

'I'm not a filthy traitor. I don't betray my comrades.'

'We shall see about that,' said Hutchinson.

 

*******************************

 

Starsky closed the drapes in their bedroom, and lit the lamps. On one wall, there was a large, full-length mirror. He had barely glanced into it, before tonight. Now, he stood before it, and studied himself, thoroughly.

He had a vague memory of his appearance before the war. Before the Warsaw Ghetto. He'd never been beautiful, he thought. Not like Hutch. But he'd had his attractions. Women had watched him. Men had watched him. Men had envied him, challenged him, lusted after him. For the most part, he had ignored all this. He'd wanted a man to love him. It had been a longing in his soul.

He took off all his clothes and stood naked, looking at himself with pitiless judgement.

He was too thin. His ribs showed. His hip bones protruded. Whenever he pointed this out to Hutch, his lover protested that he loved his bones. Starsky was putting on weight, said Hutch, and would soon be as plump and healthy as he had ever been.

On his arm, was the brand left by the concentration camp. The mark burned into his skin by the SS man Hutch had trapped in the basement. It was only a small portion of his body, thought Starsky, but it loomed before his vision when there were no clothes to hide it, and no distractions -- such as Hutch's caresses -- to make him forget it.

Then there was the matter of his penis. Starsky loved his penis. It was part of his body. It gave him pleasure. Hutch said it gave him pleasure, which was just as important. Starsky didn't want to be a woman. He liked being a man. But he could never give Hutch children. He could never have children of his own, unless he married a woman.

But, he could love Hutch. He could love him with his body. When Hutch was near, he could feel his body reaching out with love. That was the most important thing, Starsky thought. Not beauty, for without love, beauty was cold, and unfeeling. Not even children were more important than love, for if children weren't created with love, their souls would suffer. He worried about the soul of Sybil, and Hutch's son. Vanessa had not mentioned the boy's name, Hutch told them. Without parents to love them, parents who loved each other, what would become of them?

Warm arms circled Starsky's neck, interrupting his dark reverie. Warm lips kissed his nape, and sent shivers down his spine.

'Look at you,' said Hutch. 'All naked and shivering, waiting for me to warm you.'

'Have you finished torturing the prisoners?' asked Starsky.

'I haven't started yet,' said Hutch. 'Torture takes time and energy. I'll get around to it eventually. Come to bed.'

'Why aren't we going after your children, Hutch? Aren't they the most important thing?'

'They are. Which is why I'm not falling into my father's trap. He won't kill them, while they can be used as bait. Do I seem cold to you?'

'Not cold. More cautious than I could ever be, if they were my children. I'd be losing my mind. I've always wanted children. I've always wanted to hold a baby in my arms. My own baby. It was all I could do not to....'

'When we find Sybil, and my son, you can hold them all you want. Would that be enough? Unless you'd rather get married and have your own family.'

'That wouldn't be fair,' said Starsky. 'I could never love a woman. Not in the way I love you. Not in the way a man should love his wife. I could love her as a sister, but that's not enough.'

He turned and looked into Hutch's face. 'When we find your children, I'll love them as if they were my own. If you don't mind?'

'Mind?' asked Hutch. 'How could I mind? Love them to your heart's content.'

Hutch bent and kissed Starsky's lips. It seemed a benediction. Hutch had sworn that Starsky's people were his people. Now, Starsky made the same vow.

 

***************************

 

Hutch lay propped on one elbow. He was intent on drawing shapes in the semen pooled on Starsky's stomach. Starsky opened his eyes to watch. He laughed. 'Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?' he asked.

'Probably,' said Hutch, sleepily. 'I don't remember.'

'Who was the first man you ever made love with? Do you remember that?'

'You,' said Hutch.

'Ah! A diplomatic answer.'

'Not at all,' said Hutch. 'I'm not being a diplomat. I'm telling the truth. I never made love before that night. I fucked a lot of people, but it's not the same thing.'

'Why do you think it was different with me?'

'You're full of questions tonight,' said Hutch. His voice was unwontedly sharp.

I'm getting close to the bone, thought Starsky. 'I'm curious,' he said. 'Flattered, too. Out of all the people you fucked, I was the only one you loved. Why choose me?'

'I didn't choose you,' said Hutch.

'Didn't you?' said Starsky. 'I've never believed that people fall in love by accident. Or if they do, they fall out of it just as accidentally. We've held to each other through everything. There must be a reason. We must have value to each other, beyond the fucking.'

'Of course we do,' said Hutch. 'What of it?'

'What of it? It's important, what we give each other, other than the fucking. We don't often speak of it.'

'You speak of it,' said Hutch. 'What do I give you? What did you see in me, that made you want me?'

'Hope,' said Starsky. 'When I met you, I saw hope. The Warsaw Ghetto needed hope. I needed hope, and you showed up.'

'What did I do, to fulfil that hope? I couldn't save the Ghetto. I couldn't save you from the camps. Not until it was almost too late.'

'No one expected you to save the whole Ghetto,' said Starsky. 'I knew you couldn't stop the invasion single-handed. But we were trapped, surrounded by hate, and despair. You, and the others who helped us -- it didn't matter if you were able to stop the Nazi machine. Not really. You gave us hope that the human race wasn't descending into evil, sinking into it with no possibility of rescue. That's what I saw in you. That's what I needed from you. What I still need.'

'Am I giving you enough of what you need?' asked Hutch.

'Most of the time. Once in a while, you frighten me.'

'I frighten myself,' said Hutch.

'Now, what do you need from me?' asked Starsky.

'The same thing, I suppose,' Hutch answered.

'Don't you know what you need?' asked Starsky.

'You are so clever tonight,' said Hutch. 'Tell me what you think I need.'

'That is dangerous,' said Starsky.

'You started it,' said Hutch.

'What do I think you need from me? Other than the fucking? What did I have to give? I had nothing. You gave, and I took. That was what you needed, Hutch. You needed to give. You needed someone to love and care for. I was that lucky person.'

'Starsky.'

'You see? You give hope. You need to love and care for someone. That is part of who you are Ken Hutchinson. Hold to that, and you'll be safe.'

'Safe from what?' asked Hutch.

'From what frightens you about yourself. Remember, you told me I saved your soul. I haven't resigned my post. I'm still here. I still need you. And your babies need us. Don't give way to despair. Not now.'

'I don't intend to,' said Hutch. He closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

The moon was shining in the balcony doors. A beam of moonlight reached the bed. It lit Hutch's hair, and his pale skin, turning him to a marble statue. A beautiful statue come to life, all for him, thought Starsky.

Starsky looked down at Hutch's marble hand resting on his stomach. The moonbeam outlined the shapes Hutch had been drawing on his stomach. They were letters, drawn in semen. Hebrew letters.

EMET

LIFE

The word carved on the Golem's forehead. The word which had brought him back to life. A sort of life, thought Starsky.

 

***********************

 

Night turned everything to shades of gray. There was no black and white. Blood was indecipherable from the grass it stained. The sleeping resembled the dead.

This night, the Golem stood his ground, unmoving. His eyes turned outward toward the street. He ignored Starsky's presence on the balcony.

 

************************

 

'I hope you know what you're doing, Wolf,' said the Pilot. He certainly sounded hopeful, but also less than believing.

'Thank you for your support,' said Hutch.

'Oh, you have my wholehearted support,' the Pilot answered. 'To the very end. And my eulogy at your funeral, if I live to give it.'

'You are forever predicting my early demise,' noted Hutch. 'Do I look dead yet?'

'No, you do not.' The Pilot looked Hutch up and down. 'But you don't look like a fool, either.'

'Nor a madman, I assume,' Hutch continued. 'You thought I was insane once, remember? When Starsky and I invited you to join our little expedition to revive the Golem.'

'I remember. You convinced me your plan had merit, when you said it didn't matter if the Golem existed or not. Hitler believed it existed, that was the important thing. You've yet to convince me this new plan has merit.'

'He's yet to convince me this new plan has merit,' said Starsky. 'I'm not letting him carry it out until he does.'

'Starsky, listen...'

'No, Hutch. You listen to me. You must rescue your babies, I agree. Rescue them, and bring them home safely. Not commit suicide.'

'Ah,' said the Pilot. 'It's about time one of you showed some sense.'

'I'm not committing suicide,' said Hutch.

'As I said, you've yet to convince me, or David, of that.'

'If my father really wanted me dead, by now I would be dead, instead of having this warm conversation with you.'

'How trusting of you,' the Pilot commented.

'I don't trust my father,' Hutch answered. 'I know him too well. He sees me as an extension of himself. I must have practical motives for going over to the other side. Power, perhaps. Power makes sense to him, so I'll play on that theme.'

'For how long?' asked Starsky. 'If he's your father, he can't be stupid.'

'Thank you,' Hutch answered. 'For as long as it takes. Don't make it too long. In the meantime, I need to continue my conversation with our guests in the basement. They'll make good character witnesses.'

'Witnesses of what?' asked Starsky.

'Witnesses that I'm still a good, bloodthirsty Nazi, who only joined the winning side for pragmatic reasons, of course. And they might have a few interesting bits of news for me, if I'm convincing enough. I wonder who did order them to assassinate me? They say it was Hitler himself. How flattering.'

'Do you believe them?' asked Starsky.

'I believe they believe it,' said Hutch. 'But why would Hitler choose such incompetent assassins? Does he even have the time, or the resources to order anyone's murder?'

'Does your father?' asked the Pilot, quietly.

'If he's been laying low, hiding out at the Fortress, yes. The Allies aren't concerned with him, at the moment. He's always kept in the background. He's always dealt with the ideals, with the rituals. With the religion, so to speak. He's above the fighting and the dying and the blood. I think he's always considered himself above Hitler as well. He'll come out of this war, smelling like roses. All he has to say is that he knew nothing of the death camps. Perhaps it's even true.'

'Perhaps,' said Starsky. 'If he's been living in a cave for the last ten years.'

'You're right. It's not likely he knows nothing. But he'll tell a convincing story. He knew about the camps, but thought they were only work camps.'

'Hutch. You keep avoiding the point of all this. The point isn't what your father knows or doesn't know. The point is his intentions toward you. Are you certain he doesn't want your head on a platter?'

'No. I'm not certain,' said Hutch. 'But I'm certain he won't demand it without first trying to save me from myself. Especially with all his other plans falling into ruin around him. He'll want to save something. Can I be saved?'

'Ah. I see,' said Starsky.

'You see what?'

'I see where you got your idealism from. And your martyr complex. And your desire to rescue lost souls.'

'If you mean I got those things -- supposing I have them -- from my father of all people....'

'Where else?' asked Starsky. 'And how sad. That you should be so much alike, and yet so far apart.'

'We're not alike,' said Hutch. 'Any resemblance between us is superficial.'

'If you say so,' said Starsky.

'I say so,' Hutch replied. He reached out and solemnly flicked Starsky's nose with one impudent finger. 'I am nothing like my father. And Starsky, I learned long ago the futility of wishing things could go my way. Of trying to create my own reality, and believing in it. Of thinking I could stop a runaway train by standing in front of it, screaming and waving my arms.'

'Hutch,' said Starsky. 'You judge your own capacities too harshly. Look around you. You did stop that runaway train. Its passengers have disembarked and are sitting around the table having tea.'

'Yes? Well we shall be climbing back on board that runaway train all too soon. Are you ready, people?'

'Ready,' said Hannah.

The rest of his troupe simply nodded. They all went their separate ways, on their different missions.

Starsky gripped Hutch's arm, and smiled. 'Listen,' he said. 'I have been thinking, and I've decided that the problem with your plan is that I have nothing to do with it. That is about to change. I am going with you, and that is final. No arguments. Agreed?'

Starsky sat through the resulting argument from Hutch with calm determination that he would win in the end.

**************************

The Golem fell in behind Starsky and Hutch as they headed out, through the city. Paris in the early morning, painted in shades of hope and joy. Still it was a troubled city, and not yet a City of Lights. The light of dawn was cruel, as well as promising. It outlined the rubble and the bloodstains, with savage glee.

Major Thomas Findley was yawning over his coffee.

'Greetings,' said Hutch, as he shook the Major's hand. 'Has this early meeting disturbed your sleep?'

'Who sleeps?' the Major answered.

'Indeed,' said Hutch. 'This is David Starsky. He speaks no English.'

'Je parle francais. Parlez vous?'

'Ah, oui,' said Starsky. 'Oui, bien sur.'

'Nous parlons francais,' Hutch added. 'Tres bien.'

'Ca c'est bon.' The major lifted his coffee cup. 'Cafe au lait?'

'Sounds good,' said Hutch.

They all ordered cafe au lait, and settled into a corner seat, near the window.

'I suppose you are wondering....' Hutch began.

'No,' said the Major. 'I am not wondering at all. Pas du tout. You wish for me to be a sort of representative for you, with my faction in the city.'

'Well... yes,' said Hutch. 'But how did you know this? Has someone been talking, or....'

'No. Not at all. Just the voices in my head.'

'You hear voices?' asked Starsky.

'Yes,' said the Major. 'But no evil voices. They do not counsel me to chop off people's heads, so don't worry.'

'I wasn't worried,' said Starsky, with a smile.

'And so you should not be. Your protector would frighten off most assassins.'

'Which one?'

'Which protector? Either one, for both are formidable in their own way. And you are becoming formidable yourself, Monsieur Starsky. Soon, you will need no protector.'

'You know a lot about my friend, Major Findley, for someone who has only just met him,' said Hutch.

Major Findley turned to look at Hutch, and smiled, quite unaffected by his interlocutor's tone of polite, dry, ironic threat. 'I know your friend by repute,' he said. 'And now I have met him, I find that repute has told me of him only the simple truth, and no exaggeration.'

'Beaucoup,' said Starsky. 'I think.'

'He must have meant that as a compliment,' Hutch suggested.

'How else?' asked the major. 'You know,' he added. 'You would not make a diplomat.'

'Of course he would,' said Starsky. 'What is it called again? Gunboat diplomacy?'

'That sort of diplomacy has its uses,' the major pointed out. 'And in fact you have reassured me. I was concerned you were going to butter me up, persuade me you were my friends, and then use me to gain cachet with the other allies.'

'That is our intention,' said Hutch.

'Yes, but you have gone about it so charmingly, I have scarcely noticed. Listen.' Major Findley leaned forward, and lowered his voice. 'There is a great deal of mistrust of you and your intentions toward this city.'

'We are aware of that,' said Hutch. 'But you mistrust the wrong people.'

'I mistrust the right people. Monsieur Hutchinson, soon enough Hitler will be completely defeated. The Nazis will be a danger no more. The Allied forces will begin to draw lines, and bunker down behind them.'

'What line will you bunker behind?' asked Hutch.

'You are asking about me personally, or about my country? Canada is a small country, Messieurs. Not in geographical size, you understand, but in population. We will dismantle most of our armed forces, and beat our swords back into plowshares. For myself, I am an officer. I may still have a career in the army, or I could go back to university. Why do you ask?'

'I was curious about which side you would be on in an international dispute.'

'I would like to think that depends on the issues involved.'

'A diplomatic answer,' said Hutch.

'Yes,' said the major, rather vaguely. He leaned forward again, and lowered his voice even more. 'Have we talked long enough? Have you diverted attention from your real purpose long enough?'

'What do you mean?' asked Starsky. He rested his hand on Hutch's arm, as if casually, and gripped it as hard as he could. Keep your knives in your sleeves, he thought at him. I'm tired of cleaning bloodstains out of my clothes.

'I mean that I know you had another purpose in this meeting besides the official one. That is good. I distrust people who claim simple motives. I prefer to have an obvious reason to suspect those motives, beyond my own paranoia. You wanted a reason to be at this end of town, and I respect your reasons.'

'You will keep those reasons to yourself,' said Hutch. 'One way or another.'

'Certainly,' said the major. 'I will keep them to myself just as well with my throat intact, as I would if it were sliced open. I am more useful to you in the former state, I feel inclined to point out, however.'

'I agree,' said Starsky. 'If we start killing our allies as well as our enemies, where are we? I've seen enough of that.'

'I am your ally, not your enemy, so I support that sentiment. Suggest a tale of your activities, and I will spread it around Paris.'

'And what is in it for you?' asked Hutch, a note of bitterness creeping into his voice.

'I want that nest of Nazis cleaned out of Montsegur as much as you do,' said the major.

*** continued in Chapter Two ***


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starsky and Hutch try to rescue Hutch's children from the Nazis.

Blood Wedding, part 2  
***********************

Not too far from the gates of Paris they found a transport truck, upside down in a ditch.  The Golem turned it right side up, and they removed the dead bodies in the front seats and buried them.  Starsky fixed the slightly damaged engine, and the Golem climbed in the back and lay down flat. 

An hour or so later, the Pilot joined them in the car, Hutch’s tortured prisoners tied up in the back seat.  He had the stores of food and water, and blankets for the cold February nights.  ‘Vlad sends his regards,’ he told them.  ‘And his vow to keep the home fires burning.’

The truck bore the insignia of the Canadian Army, and that fact, with the official papers provided them by  Major Findley,  sped them through most checkpoints with ease.  Hutch thought that one or two people recognized them, as well.  Only at one checkpoint did anyone demand to see the contents of the truck.  Starsky led him to the back, and opened the door.  The soldier looked inside, nodded, and passed them through with a comment that he hoped the intended recipients enjoyed their surprise.

**************

They set up camp when they reached what Hutch considered to be a safe distance from the perimeter of the Nazi’s mountain fastness.  The Pilot hid the truck in a ravine, covered with branches, but ready to go at a moment’s notice.  Starsky started a small fire just inside a cave by a stream, facing away from any lookouts at the castle, and Hutch stowed their prisoners in the back of the cave, out of sight.  The Golem stood guard, hidden in a copse of trees. They had done this sort of thing so often that by now it was second nature to them.

‘We will move in tonight, after dark,’ said Hutch, as they sat before the tiny fire, drinking coffee.  ‘Starsky...’

‘Yes,’ said Starsky.  ‘Anything you need.’

‘Not... not that.  I couldn’t go in there, and say and do the things I must do, with the traces of your love-making on my body.  Forgive me?’

‘Of course.  I understand,’ said Starsky, though he didn’t.  Not really.  In battle, Starsky acted out of passion;  Hutch with cold, clear rationality. The traces of Hutch’s love-making on his body would make Starsky even more determined.  ‘You need a clear head,’  he concluded.

‘Yes, but also, I need your forgiveness beforehand, because of the things I must say and do.’  

‘Hutch, we’ve talked about this.  Rehearsed it, even.  I’ve been through a lot worse.  I’m strong now, strong enough to fight by your side.  These are your children, innocent children.  I would die before I’d let them suffer.  Trust me.’

‘I trust you.  David.’  Hutch held out his hand, and Starsky took it in a warrior’s grasp.  ‘Unto death,’ said Hutch.

‘Unto death,’ Starsky replied.

‘Unto death,’ added the Pilot.  ‘Though I hope it won’t come to that.’

Hutch finished his coffee, and they put out the fire and cleaned up the camp.  Then Hutch went to the stream, and took off his dusty travel clothes.  He washed in the cold water.  Starsky watched him for a moment, admiring he naked body one last time, so that if their mission really did end in death... but no!  He must not think of that.  Hutch had taught him to go into battle with one thought only: victory.  

He made his own preparations, changing into tattered clothes, and smearing his face and hands with dirt.  When Hutch appeared, dressed all in black, his face carved out of ice, and his blue eyes shining like weapons, Starsky gave him one wordless look of love, then lowered his own eyes, lest he damage Hutch’s armour.  

They moved in right after dark.  The moon was rising, a sliver of a moon,  a mere ghost of itself.  The stars were tiny, distant points of immortality in a sky dark with death.  Hutch was in front, Starsky behind him with the Golem, and the Pilot, with their Nazi prisoners,  brought up the rear.   Ahead of them on the forest path, Starsky thought he saw the shimmer of a white wolf, leading them on.

The mountain loomed ahead, ominous and powerful.  As they climbed, Starsky began to feel a bit dizzy, remembering another mountain journey.  He and Hutch had been alone then. They had escaped the death train, and then the attempts on his life by Hutch’s friends.  Now they were going back into the lion’s den, so to speak.  Starsky thought of the last time he had been in the power of the Nazi’s, and he felt sick.  His mind was determined to follow their plan, he thought, but his body and his soul protested.  But no!  His body and soul belonged to Hutch, just as Hutch’s body and soul were in his care.  Hutch would not desert him, so he must not desert Hutch, no matter what.  

As they turned on the path, to make the final assault on the mountain, Hutch turned to Starsky, and for a moment his bright blue eyes softened, as if he knew how Starsky felt – and how could he not know?  Starsky managed a slight smile, and a soft murmur of love, that no one but Hutch could hear.

And now the cave entrance loomed ahead.  ‘Move!’ said Hutch, sharply.  He gave Starsky a slight push.  If it had been anyone else, the Golem would have intervened.  But Starsky had explained their plan to the Golem, and the creature had seemed to understand.  It came up behind Starsky, as if to help Hutch push him inside.  The Pilot prodded their other prisoners with the butt of his rifle, and they entered the deep dark of the cave.  

Once they were inside, Hutch lit their only lantern, and they started walking once more, following its faint light.

‘I hope  you know where you’re going,’ muttered the Pilot.

‘Shut up!’ Hutch replied.

‘Ja wohl, Mein Fuhrer,’ said the Pilot, with a mock Nazi salute.

‘Do that again, and I’ll shoot you right here,’ said Hutch.  His eyes were savage, hard and cold.  The prisoners looked suitably impressed.   The Pilot smirked, but said nothing more. The Golem stood silent as stone.

Starsky never forgot that long journey.  He could feel the mountain pressing down on him as they walked.  It pressed in from every side, as if it held an actual hatred against him, though this must be a nightmarish fantasy of his own.

At first the passageway was silent as the tomb, but then, after a long, long time, Starsky began to hear sound, deep and menacing sound.  As they grew closer, he knew it was a form of chanting.  

‘The blood ritual,’ Hutch murmured very softly, for Starsky’s ears alone, probably to let him know the chanting was not in his own mind.

Throughout the long cave journey, Starsky had kept his head down, carefully watching his step, trying hard not to think of anything but avoiding a stumble on the rough ground.  Now he raised his head and stared at Hutch’s hair, pale in the flickering light of the lantern.  ‘Not much longer,’ Hutch said.

And then they made one last turn of the path, and the chanting grew much louder and then they were standing at the entrance to a chamber, hidden deep in the mountain.  

  
*************

Starsky had never seen Hutch’s father, not even a picture of him, for Hutch carried no family photographs about with him.  Yet there he was, and Starsky recognized him instantly.  He wore no uniform, being dressed simply in black, and yet, among the Nazis who stood about the strange ceremonial chamber, he was clearly in charge.  The chamber was round, like an amphitheatre, the centre sunken into the floor, and in the very middle was an altar, and upon that altar lay a child. Sybil!

Starsky almost cried out at the sight, but Hutch beat him to it.  ‘Father!’ he said.  ‘Greetings!’

The elder Herr Hutchinson turned.  ‘Son,’ he said.  ‘My traitor son.  Have you come to watch me wipe out our shame?’

‘Shame?  What shame is ours?’

‘You betrayed our race, our blood.  You conspired with the unclean and performed hideous acts of perversion that no decent Nazi should ever commit.’

‘No.  No decent Nazi.  But we now live in an indecent world.  The unclean hordes are at our gates, and do you know why?  Not for anything I have done, but because our leaders have allowed it. They spent their time on nonsense and wasted their energies on that abortive attempt to invade Russia.  If they had done their duty and created the great German Reich as they promised, but no.  They were fools and they fooled Hitler, and look where we are now.  Why blame this on me?’

‘You deny that you befriended that Jew – and worse!  Performed despicable sexual acts with him?’

‘I deny that I truly befriended him, yes.  I was working as a double agent, to gain control of the Golem.  This was a secret mission given me by the Fuhrer himself, for you know he feared the Golem and Jewish magic.  I used pretence to gain his trust, for only a Jew can wake the Golem, but then I won the creature over to my control. Behold!  Golem, come forth.’

For a moment Starsky feared the creature would not obey, but then it did.  It stepped up to Hutch and bowed its head.  Starsky heard a gasp from the assembled multitude.

‘And I took these miserable creatures captive, when they tried to assassinate me. They claimed it was on Hitler’s orders, but I knew that was a lie.’

The Pilot pushed their prisoners into the chamber, and they cowered on the floor.

  
‘You sent them to kill me, did you not?  Because you thought I had become degenerate?  But you were wrong.’

‘Son!’ said Herr Hutchinson.  ‘My son in truth, I see that I have judged you wrongly.  May I ask your pardon?’

‘Of course,’ said Hutch.  ‘I was never able to tell you of my secret activities, learning of the Golem and the hidden plans of the evil Jews among us.  If only our great Fuhrer had not trusted so much in his false advisors... but no!  It is not too late.  We have the Golem.  The Fuhrer still lives, bravely holding out in Berlin.  Most of the Allied Forces are now massed here, in Europe, trusting that all is safe and the Golem protects them. All we need to do is gather our forces, for we have them surrounded, and with the Golem we shall prevail!’

‘Yes!’ said Herr Hutchinson and the other Nazis. Their eyes shone with insane belief.  Once they may not have been so naive, but since the war had turned against them, they had become more and more desperate, and were willing to believe in any good news. Starsky knew how that felt.

‘Let us begin anew, my son,’ said Herr Hutchinson.

‘Yes,’ said Hutch.  ‘But first, give me my children.  I see you have one of them lying on the altar.  Why?’

‘We thought you were truly a traitor, and we were wiping out your crime in blood.  Your blood, in the body of your child.  And she is damaged. She was born deaf.’

‘Not so!’ said Hutch.  ‘It was only temporary, because of the noise of the bomb so close by.  I want my children.  You have my son here safe?’

‘Yes, but why the urgency?’

‘My wife is dead, foully murdered by this traitor.’  Hutch pushed Starsky forward.  ‘Give me my children, and you may sacrifice him, instead.  We will make a pact with his blood, and lead our nation on to victory.’

Herr Hutchinson made a sign, and one of his lieutenants ran off to bring the boy to him.  ‘Give us the Jew,’ said Hutch’s father.  ‘And you shall have your children.’

‘Untie my daughter first,’ said Hutch.

‘Why so untrusting?’

‘I trust no one,’ said Hutch.  ‘Except the Fuhrer, of course.  And even he has been corrupted, though we shall save him, in time.’

One of the Nazis untied Sybil.  Hutch put her down on the ground by the Golem’s feet, and told the creature to guard her.   The Nazis brought forth his son from the back of the chamber.  Herr Hutchinson nodded.  ‘Let us sacrifice the Jew,’ he said.  ‘And you shall have your son.’

‘Get up on the altar,’ Hutch commanded.

Starsky whined, and cried a little, but he complied, as though his will to live had been destroyed. The Nazis laughed a little, enjoying the humiliation of the inferior Jew who thought he had defeated his Nazi masters.  

Herr Hutchinson handed to his son his own ceremonial dagger.  Hutch bent over Starsky, and said softly, ‘I will kill you slowly, and drain you of all blood, and  your blood will flow over our altar and wipe out all our shame. ‘  The dagger cut a swift furrow in Starsky’s cheek, and blood flowed down onto the altar.  And then a second cut, and a third.  Shallow, not dangerous, but painful.  ‘My son,’ said Hutch, gently.  ‘Put him by his sister, with the Golem, and I shall continue.’

Herr Hutchinson nodded. One of the Nazis picked up the boy, and carried him to safety by the Golem.  

And then all Hell broke loose.  The Pilot shot the Nazi dead the moment the child touched the ground.  Hutch threw one of his secret knives and then the other.  Both hit their targets.  The dagger he buried in a third victim. The Pilot shot twice more.  And then there was only Hutch’s father.  

Starsky scrambled off the altar, and stood at Hutch’s side.  ‘Don’t do anything foolish, Father,’ said Hutch.  ‘I don’t want to kill you, but I will if I must.’

‘Never call me your father again, you lying, filthy traitor.  How could I have fathered a child like you?’  Herr Hutchinson reached for his pistol, but before he could pull the trigger, the Pilot shot him dead.

‘I’m sorry,’ said the Pilot.  ‘I never wanted to do that.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ said Hutch.  ‘And now we are even.’

Starsky remembered then, that it had been Hutch who had killed the Pilot’s lover, when the man was executed for treason.

*************************

It was a year later.  The war was over, and the world was putting itself back together, slowly but surely. One beautiful day in late spring, Starsky and Hutch and the Golem set out on a journey together, into their past.  They drove to the Swiss border and then got out and began to walk.  

Starsky remembered that first terrible journey, when he had been so weak and Hutch had been his refuge.  Since then he had proven himself in battle, over and over.  Together, he and Hutch had rescued his children.  They had set up a home together, with friends and their own little family.  He and Hutch were tracking down Nazis, and bringing them to justice for their crimes against humanity.

But now there was one last thing to take care of.  The Golem stumbled behind them, worn out and exhausted.  Once he had seemed invincible, but after so much pain and suffering, and so many deaths, the creature’s pain had become obvious.   Starsky couldn’t help but sympathize, for he had known that kind of pain himself.

As they climbed the mountain in the bright spring sunshine, the white wolf walked ahead, openly, almost dancing a little on his long legs.  A hawk screamed overhead, chasing its prey, in a dance of death, but that death was nature, not a sign of evil.

The cave was as they had left it, so long ago.  The Golem hesitated at the entrance, as if wondering what new horrors lurked ahead, but Starsky reassured it.  ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘And be at peace.  We go to war no more.’  The Golem followed them inside.  The wolf took up his guardianship in front of the cave, gazing out over the valley as if watching for  a long-awaited friend.

The pool was still there, its warm water welcome after the long walk.  He and Hutch bathed and swam and lay on the sand to make love.  They ate the food they brought with them, and sat at the cave entrance to watch the  sunset.   And then they went to the Golem, and led him to the pool.

‘You can stay here,’ said Starsky.  ‘You wouldn’t be entirely alone.  The wolf is here. We intend to visit, every once in a while, for we like it here.  You would be at peace.  Or,  I could send you back to sleep, as you slept before we woke you. You would be safe here, hidden and safe, and no one else would know where you were.  The choice is yours, for you are not my slave now, but my friend. What do you think?  And there is a third choice....’

Starsky looked toward the pool.  The Golem’s eyes followed his gaze.  It seemed to consider for a moment, and then bent over and drew letters in the sand.  Three letters.  Then it stood back up, and turned, and walked into the pool, until it disappeared beneath the water.  There was a long silence.

************

The white wolf still guards the cave.  One day, his mate came back from Germany, where she had led Starsky and Hutch into the Fortress of Montsegur,  and they live together still.  The Golem did not dissolve beneath the waters, but fell asleep and sleeps still.  Upon the sand before the pool, the letters it drew wait there still.  Three letters, that make the Hebrew word AHAVA, that means LOVE.

***THE END***


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